


Dorada's Prize

by Koocatoo



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: AU - Old Western, Action/Adventure, Anal Sex, AtsuHina, Blow Jobs, Gun Violence, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Masturbation, Nondescript Old Western America, Volleyball boys but they're cowboys, alcohol mention, sorry fam I'm villainizing the Ukais
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:08:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 44,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28681617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Koocatoo/pseuds/Koocatoo
Summary: Tongue between the teeth of a wicked grin, Atsumu dug his heels into Storm Chaser’s sides with a shout, urging him onward. Faster. As fast as possible! Out here, there were no limits.Atsumu is a small town deputy longing for a little more excitement in his life. When a rambunctious thief steps in to shatter the daily monotony, Atsumu is thrown headfirst into a world of thrilling chases on horseback, deadly shootouts, unearthed conspiracies, and more. As usual, he bites off more than he can chew, but that's never stopped him! After all, there's more to the fiery little thief than meets the eye, and he's going to find out what it is.Set during the late 1800's in non-descript Old Western America. Rated for adult themes, harsh language, and smut to come in later chapters.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou & Miya Atsumu, Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 44
Kudos: 97





	1. Whose Horse is That?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has a [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/04uEZElNSzyrItDh2NLxUz) ! Feel free to listen as you read and drop song suggestions in the comments.

Atsumu took an extended sip of his coffee, exhaling a contented sigh as the bitter liquid warmed his throat and sent a surge of caffeine through his veins. Steam gently drifted upward from the tin cup through cool morning air to caress his face, particles shifting gracefully with each breath. 

He leaned a shoulder against the wooden frame of the inn's second story window looking out toward town, brown eyes lazily drifting between residents opening their shops and horses hauling rickety carts plodding down the central dirt road. A fine cloud of dust already hung in the air from the day’s activities. They could really use some rain. 

A soft groan brought the man’s attention to the bed behind him, and he gave his head a tilt backward to eye the figure only half-covered by white sheets on the mattress, an appreciative smile forming at the sight. Emerald, half-lidded eyes gazed back as the woman stretched her arms over her head, brunette ringlets of hair dancing over the pink nipples of her supple breasts with her movements. Feeling a tug in his groin at the spectacle, he took another sip of coffee before speaking. 

“Mornin’, beautiful.” He glanced at a tin pot seated on a table in the corner of the room. “Brought coffee from downstairs, if ya like.”

The woman smiled and moved to sit up, her gaze flicking from the sky through the window to Atsumu in his linen shirt hanging untucked over his trousers.

“I would, but I need to get home soon, or my daddy’ll have my head,” she sighed before shifting out of bed to pull her clothing from the floor. Atsumu snorted. 

“Tell yer daddy that yer nineteen and can do whatever ya want.”

“Oh?” She giggled as she slipped her garments on. “You gonna march over there and tell ‘im for me?”

“I like my dick where it is, thanks.”

She laughed again and, now in her chemise and drawers, stepped around the bed to lean herself against his front, soft fingers reaching up to guide his jaw down to hers. “Me, too,” she breathed before pressing her lips to his. 

Atsumu hummed into the kiss and snaked an arm around her waist to pull her closer. “Sure ya gotta leave?” He murmured after a moment, shifting his lips to linger against her cheek. Though, he already knew that answer.

“Train leaves in a few hours,” she sighed, pulling away to meet his gaze. “Family's gotta go east, and it’s not like I have a husband to tie me down to this old town.”

“Mmm, that’s too bad.” Atsumu grinned.

Her scoff came with a knowing smile of her own. She pulled away to resume dressing herself and gathering her things. “You’re really somethin’ else, ‘Tsumu, you know that? Gonna get yourself into trouble one of these days.”

“Trouble’s my middle name,” he responded with a waggle of his eyebrows. 

Once she finished readying herself, the woman returned to lean up and press another quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

“I’ll never forget you, troublemaker or not.” 

“Nor I, you, my dear.” He moved his hand in an uncharacteristic flourish, pulling one last giggle from her before she exited the room to begin her next adventure. 

Martha, he was sure. Or Marie. 

His eyes followed her through the window as she stepped out into town and made her way up the road. _Melanie_ , he could faintly hear another woman call out to her in greeting. 

Ah.  
  


After leaving nothing but a few stray coffee grounds at the bottom of his cup, Atsumu set about the rest of his morning routine, tucking his shirt and donning his vest, belt, holstered revolver, and boots. Once he wiped down his face after a careful shave, he cut a lemon he requested from the homely bar downstairs and squeezed it into the second unused coffee cup. With this, he carefully wet his fingers and ran them through the longer lengths of his undercut, the strands having long been bleached blonde by citrus, sun, and time—a technique he learned from a woman passing through town a couple years back. He was sure she had been wearing a wig of unnaturally bright hair before he coaxed the information out of her. And gave it a yank himself. 

Hey, he thought the look would suit him (mixed reviews from the populace), and at this point he would do anything to differentiate himself from his twin brother (it helped). Plus, it smelled nice. Like a tall glass of lemonade.

With a bit of pomade to keep his bangs pushed out of the way, Atsumu donned his coat, grabbed his hat, and ventured out into the world.

His destination was the stable on the far side of town to tend to his horse—his pride and joy. 

“Storm Chaser,” he cooed as he entered the covered structure, swinging a bag of apples he picked up along the way. A black-pointed grey stallion lifted his head, ears angled forward with interest. 

“Oho, bet’cha know what these are!” Atsumu fished one of the fruits out of the bag and held it out, watching as Storm Chaser’s lips comically grasped at the apple’s smooth surface before pulling the whole thing between his teeth with a satisfying crunch. 

Placing the bag on a nearby bench, the man got to work leading the animal out into the open for a good brushing. Once satisfied, he ran a hand up Storm Chaser’s muzzle, laughing when he began to nose at his coat. 

“What? I got nothin’ for you. Come on, boy, don’t be greedy.” But the beast pushed his way forward and nipped at an inside pocket, from which, with an amused sigh, Atsumu pulled a fresh carrot. “What? How did this get here? Got quite the nose, don’t ya?” He simply couldn’t help his fond grin as he fed Storm Chaser the carrot. 

Did he talk to his horse as if it were a person too much? Probably. Did it get worse after Osamu moved to another town a year ago? Certainly not. Did Storm Chaser provide better conversation than his shit-fer-brains brother? Debatable. 

Though, to be fair, Osamu was a better listener. And cook. And late night drinking buddy when Atsumu got rejected by a cute girl or fucked up his job or pissed off the wrong person or -

Anyway.

Deciding to not dwell on the thought for too long, the blonde set about saddling up his mount, laying blankets, tightening straps, checking shoes, et cetera. Soon enough he was swinging his leg over the stallion and settling himself in the familiar curve of his saddle. Taking a few bites of his last apple, he commanded Storm Chaser out of the stables before reaching to offer the rest of the fruit, which was eagerly accepted.

“We’ll go out for a ride later, ‘kay?” He said as he patted the horse’s neck, nodding enthusiastically when he was met with a snort. “Sounds good.”  
  


The air was starting to warm as the sun rose higher in the clear sky, promising another scorching summer day. Atsumu fanned himself with the brim of his hat as he rode the horse at a leisurely pace through town, nodding in greeting to passersby. It didn't take long for him to remove his coat and drape it over the back of the saddle. Too hot for that shit today.

The settlement itself was small, but its connection to prominent, fertile farmland warranted a stop from the train for their crop yield. The building of the railroad and train station had probably been the most exciting thing that had ever happened to the town. It practically tripled their tiny economy.

Nothin' interesting ever happened otherwise. 

Turning a corner to ride down their main street, the man stared at the large “Sheriff” sign signaling his destination in the middle of town—until a glint of light caught his eye. Blinking, he cocked his head and realized the light was the sun’s rays bouncing off a living, breathing _horse—_ the sheen of its golden coat and platinum blonde hair, that is. 

Loosely tethered to a post outside the general store stood a palomino of some sort—a mass of toned muscle and clear, raw power supported by four long legs. Clearly, whoever owned the thing took immaculate care of it. The saddle fitted atop the creature looked pretty fancy, too, albeit a bit worn. Was some rich big shot visiting? Who and _why_?

“Woah,” Atsumu breathed as he passed. “Ah-” Redirecting his attention, he reached to pat his stallion’s side. “She’s pretty, but she’s got nothin’ on you.” Storm Chaser didn’t say anything, but he did leave a trail of shit in the road, so he probably agreed.

Still, he hoped to catch a glimpse of the palomino’s owner. He’d love to talk about it. Having spent his entire childhood raising and taming horses back on the family ranch, horses were kind of his thing. He took pride in the thought that he appreciated the creatures probably ten times more than anyone else.

Moving onward, Atsumu led his horse to the post outside the sheriff’s office, quickly hopping off and tethering him next to two other horses—none of which, he noted, were a familiar pure white. Huh. 

Checking to make sure the horses’ trough had been filled, he kicked open the door to the office, coat underarm. 

“Did ol’ Sheriff Kita finally take a vacation?” Atsumu loudly asked as he entered the building, eyes noting the empty desk up front before flicking to two figures seated on a bench against the far wall. 

“As if,” Aran chuckled, glancing up over the edge of a newspaper. “Farmers up the hill ‘re fightin’ over their property line again. Shin had to intervene.

“Again?” Atsumu scoffed, boots clicking against wooden floorboards as he strode inside. After hanging his coat on a wall hook, the deputy practically flopped into the chair on the other side of Shinsuke’s desk. “Thought I resolved that one last week.”

“No, you made them arm wrestle for the bigger piece of land,” Rintarou stated flatly, eyes fixed on the book in his hands. “Now one of them claims they got stronger and wants a rematch.”

Atsumu stared. “Well, that’s stupid,” he scoffed, ignoring the quiet _no shit_ his coworker muttered at his book, “He ain’t gonna be that much stronger after only a week. Maybe after, like, a month he’d have a shot if he’s really workin’ at it.”

At that Rintarou finally tore his gaze away from his pages to give the lemon-haired-or-whatever-the-fuck-he-does-to-it man a long-suffering look. Aran just sighed.

“Oh, by the way,” Atsumu tapped a finger against his chin, not at all concerned about the methods he used to keep the peace, “y’all see that palomino down the street? Whose horse is that?”

To his chagrin, he didn’t get any sort of response right away. Instead, he watched as Aran lowered his newspaper to give Rintarou a shit-eating grin while its recipient groaned, rolled his eyes, and dug around in his pocket before slapping a coin into Aran’s outstretched hand. 

“What the fuck?”

“We bet on whether or not ya'd bring up the horse.” Aran puffed out his chest, clearly proud of his win. “Because of course ya would. Unfortunately, no, we're not sure who it belongs to.”

“Horse freak,” Rintarou muttered, reaching to sweep his chocolate bangs to each side of his face and return his attention to his reading.

Atsumu could feel heat prickle in the tips of his ears at the comment. “Wh-what?” He huffed in indignation, sitting fully upright in the chair. “That’s a good-ass horse! I was just askin’!” Horse freak. Unbelievable. So what if he harbored a deep appreciation for equines? They were probably, literally, the most amazing animal in the world.

“And don’t call me that. Makes it sound gross.” 

“Wouldn’t be surprised, given your track record, Miya,” the other man responded evenly, not even bothering to glance up from his book. Atsumu bristled.

Okay, fuck this guy. 

“I’m gonna kick yer ass if you don’t shut yer gob,” he growled, moving to stand from his seat. Aran’s head popped up at the shift in tone.

“No, no ass-kickin’.” He shot a stern glare at the false-blonde. “We’re gonna have a peaceful day here. Maybe go out for a patrol in an hour. Got it?”

Atsumu’s gaze flicked between the two men, one of whom looking much too smug for his liking, before sighing in defeat and relaxing against the back of the chair, visage set in a harsh glower.

“Fine. Whatever.”

He’d find a way to exact his revenge one way or another. Eventually. 

Silence settled itself in the small reception space of the sheriff’s office, weaving between the iron bars of the vacant holding cells toward the back of the building, interrupted by occasional noise from the bustle of life outside. Atsumu found himself idly flipping through a meticulously kept log book of incidents Shinsuke kept on his desk. 

_Stopped a drunkard from pissing all over the street, fined someone for killing a chicken, property line dispute, attempted pickpocketing, assault, another drunkard, blah, blah, blah._

Boring. So fucking boring. 

Propping an elbow on the desk, he nestled a cheek in his hand and closed his eyes.

He liked this town, he really did, but when he chose to dedicate his time to maintaining order and keeping the peace or whatever, he had really been hoping life would be more like the enthralling stories he’d eavesdrop on as a child. 

Grizzly men with facial scars and thick calluses on their hands used to recount wildly exaggerated stories of shootouts, chases, robberies, and the like, each tale growing taller as the whiskey flowed. ‘Good guys’ on horseback running down ‘bad guys’ and saving the day. That kind of thing. 

And it wasn’t as if he thought the daily routine was unimportant. Quite the opposite. Atsumu enjoyed his role and the small degree of respect that came with it; he enjoyed keeping an eye on things and doing his best to keep his fellow townsfolk content. Not to mention, the ladies also seemed to like a dashing lawman.

It’s just -

In all his twenty-five years, most of his excitement stemmed from riding out in the wilderness and shooting either bottles propped up on a ledge or birds out of the sky. He didn’t want something _bad_ to happen, but maybe, just once -

“HELP!”

Ah, now he was hallucinating. Ain’t that sad. Was he so desperate?

“Someone!! The bank!! Thief!!”

Atsumu’s eyes snapped open. He lifted his head to see the other two men looking equally shocked, reading materials lowered to their laps. So they heard it, too? Someone screaming outside? A thief. The bank? A _robbery_.

“Shit,” was all Atsumu could say in realization as they scrambled from their seats at once. He sprung forward and vaulted over the desk, knocking papers and a few of Shinsuke’s other things to the floor, but he couldn’t care less as he slapped on his hat and bounded toward the door.

Aran made it first, and Atsumu practically shoved Rintarou out of the way when the door opened, the three clambering outside and squinting against the sun’s bright, unrelenting rays. Where?

They looked to the right, just in time to see a man sprinting out of the bank’s entrance a few structures down with a literal bag of cash underarm, hat pulled low and cloth tied high on his face, rifle on his back and handgun on his waist. The outlaw darted across the dirt road at breakneck speed, sidestepped an oncoming carriage, and in what Atsumu would then consider to be one of the most incredible moves he’d ever seen, leapt up and over the back of the shiny palomino he’d been admiring earlier, landing squarely in the saddle like it was nothing. The guy seemed pretty short, but he could still pull off a jump like that? Holy shit. 

Atsumu wanted to try it. 

Ignoring outraged shouts around him, the stranger quickly tugged his horse’s reins free from their tether and dragged the beast’s head sideways. With a kick and a tug from its rider, the palomino released a loud whinny before taking off down the road, hooves pounding thunderously against the dirt.

Atsumu barely had time to admire the beautiful horse in motion as they passed before Aran’s shout snapped him back to reality. “Is anyone hurt?”

Adrenaline kicked his body into motion. Atsumu heard a faint _No_ from someone near the bank as he grabbed Storm Chaser’s reins and threw them over his head. Hopping over the trough, he hurriedly hooked his boot in a stirrup and swung himself onto his saddle, because _fuck_ this just wasn’t the right angle to try out that back-jump, his companions doing the same. Tugging on the reins, he directed his stallion toward the road. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Atsumu noticed a young woman standing across the street with a hand clamped over her mouth in shock, dark eyes anxious and wide at the scene unfolding before her. When their gazes met for just a brief moment, the blonde couldn’t help the excited grin splitting his features. He pulled back on the reins to rear his horse on its hind legs, a high-pitched neigh reverberating in its throat.

He looked so fucking amazing. And he was gonna come back a hero. 

“Come on, boys, let’s get ‘em!”

With a shout and kick of his heels, Storm Chaser shot forward, Atsumu tearing after the thief with his companions in tow. The chase began. 

The sound of hooves upturning earth pulsed in his ears, even his own _hiyas_ to his horse almost lost to the beat. Atsumu’s eyes were fixed solely on the figure a few blocks ahead down the road. His hands gripped the worn leather of the reins; his body rocked with each stride. 

The shiny horse was fast, but he was sure Storm Chaser was faster. 

“Stop!” The deputy was vaguely aware of Aran shouting at the outlaw as they rode. “You’ll only make this worse for yerself!”

The thief sharply rounded a corner, crying out a _Coming Through!_ in warning as folks dived out of the way, followed by a _Sorry!!!_

Atsumu snorted to himself. At least the guy didn’t seem to want to hurt anyone. He could be grateful for that. Rounding the corner, they pressed on, slowly but surely gaining ground on the other man. 

Just as they were nearing the edge of town, a donkey-drawn vegetable cart pulled into an intersection ahead, its oblivious driver slowing the harnessed donkey to a stop to allow a few pedestrians to pass. Ha! That was sure to slow the thief—except he wasn’t slowing down, he was speeding up! 

He simply couldn’t help the elated gasp that escaped his lips when he saw the other rider rocket over the cart, the palomino touching down gracefully on the other side with room to spare. 

Atsumu wanted to try it. 

He knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that Storm Chaser could clear that jump with ease, so he led him onward. _Come on, come on, come on._

Storm Chaser jumped. He landed. With a victorious cry, they pressed on. The outlaw glanced back at him. 

“That’s right,” Atsumu chuckled to himself. “Yer not gettin’ rid of us that easy.” 

Chancing a look behind, Atsumu saw that both Aran and Rintarou chose to move around the cart, losing precious seconds in their pursuit but quickly working to make up the difference. Ahead, he saw the little thief reach back to securely tie the bag of money to his saddle, freeing his other arm. Incredible how the guy had been steering one-handed until then. 

They careened past the town’s gate and out into the wilderness—that was where the real fun began. 

Atsumu realized, in a mix of awe and horror, that the other rider had begun to steadily outpace his pursuers. He was getting _faster_. Without the risk of running into people, carts, or buildings; with nothing but open plains and clear skies ahead, there was no reason to hold back. 

This guy… 

Tongue between the teeth of a wicked grin, Atsumu dug his heels into Storm Chaser’s sides with a shout, urging him onward. Faster. As fast as possible! Out here, there were no limits. His companions pulled up to each of his sides, only a few strides behind. Good. 

With their speed, wind whipped at their garments with a ferocity that felt like it was threatening to tear them to shreds. It was a battle the thief’s hat lost. Atsumu saw the moment it flew off the other rider’s head, chin strap broken, and he reached up to grab it as it passed. His fingertip barely grazed the dark leather brim, just out of his reach. Damn. Not highly important, but damn. 

Except when he looked back to follow the hat’s trajectory, Rintarou Suna, the beautiful bastard, had leaned out to catch the garment in a hand, managing to throw him a cheeky smirk. He couldn’t help his laugh. He ain’t even mad.

When Atsumu returned his gaze to their evader, what he saw was… fire. 

He had met a few redheads in his day, but the hair this guy’s hat no longer kept hidden was such a bright hue of orange he could hardly believe it was real. The thief’s wild locks shifted chaotically with his movements, and in the sunlight it really did almost look like it was ablaze.

Atsumu wanted to see it up close. 

The whiz of a bullet flying through the space between him and Aran snapped him into focus. The outlaw had pulled a revolver from its holster and twisted back to aim toward them. A second bullet flew between him and Rintarou. Shit. 

No limits.

All three moved immediately—Atsumu drawing his own revolver, Aran pulling a rifle he kept strapped to his saddle, and Rintarou readying a lasso. They directed their horses away from each other. 

Double shit. He had no desire to shoot this guy or his horse—not before he had an opportunity to at least _talk_ with him, but now their lives were on the line. 

Another shot rang out, this time from Aran’s rifle. The bullet exploded into the dirt near the palomino’s hoof, causing the thief to swerve slightly and look back, alarmed. 

Atsumu didn’t have time to formulate another thought as he watched the other rider, in a remarkable display of balance and flexibility, remove his boots from his stirrups, kick one leg over his horse’s head, and fling the other over its rump, spinning in the saddle as he did so until he found himself seated completely _backwards_ on his mount, held in place by the strength of his thighs and steady, reversed rhythm of his hips moving with the horse. 

Atsumu wanted to try _that_.

The man slowly raised his revolver, the gun supported by two hands this time, aiming with such an intensely focused look, it sucked away every last bit of joy Atsumu had felt during their chase. He was aiming at Aran. 

His heart dropped. 

A shot rang out, and the deputy swore he heard some kind of impact, but when he looked over at his companion, the man seemed fine. Equally shocked, but unharmed. 

Aran noticed his problem first and immediately yanked on the reins to slow his steed down. Atsumu shouted out at him in confusion, then in realization when he saw a thick leather strap dangling haphazardly between the horse’s legs - one of the saddle straps. 

Said saddle began to slide down the side of the horse, dragging its rider along with it. Aran grabbed a fistfull of mane in a vain attempt to hang on, but the saddle shifted almost perpendicular to the ground, effectively sending him tumbling into dirt and brush. 

Atsumu winced. That must have hurt, but at least he hadn’t been shot to death. He was _probably_ fine. 

His eyes widened. Because… the redhead shot and destroyed the strap’s buckle. On purpose. With a revolver. While riding a horse backwards. 

Those first two shots had been _warning shots_.

Speechless, Atsumu turned to see said assailant watching Aran’s downfall through squinted eyes. The little shit was smiling under that mask! 

Funnily enough, so was Atsumu. Involuntarily.

He had never seen anything like it. 

Neither had Rintarou, apparently, who was in the midst of swinging his lasso overhead—because what a perfect opportunity with the outlaw riding backwards with nothing to hang on to!—until the man shifted to train the sights of his revolver on _him_. Rintarou squinted, stopped his swinging, and pulled on the reins to slow his horse. Atsumu gaped at him, only seeing a halfhearted shrug before he got too far away to see. 

What a fucking coward. Never mind, he was mad again.

Atsumu looked forward to see the thief aiming his gun directly at him, brow furrowed, gaze questioning. The blonde still had his own revolver in hand, but he had never even pointed it—hell, he never cocked the damn thing. 

He really, really, had no interest in shooting at this guy. 

Before they could resolve their silent battle, however, the ground shifted in texture beneath the horses’ hooves, the change upsetting the orange-haired guy’s balance. He flailed his arms and clamped his thighs, regaining enough stability to twist around and look ahead. 

Canyons. 

Atsumu stared, his mind reeling. Right, there were canyons over this way, deep cracks and chasms in the earth formed by time and rivers, and if he remembered correctly, a rather large dropoff directly ahead. 

Checkmate.

He’d have nowhere to go.

The thief seemed to realize this, as well, giving Atsumu one last glance before twisting once again to align himself properly in the saddle. He holstered his weapon.

Atsumu smirked and did the same. They could see the ledge now. 

Both him and Storm Chaser were drenched in sweat, legs screaming for rest, tongues lolling with each sharp intake of air into burning lungs. The horses needed to rest; they’d been galloping for ages now. Surely the palomino couldn’t run forever. Victory was within his grasp. 

He could _taste_ it.

It was all the more confusing that, once again, the other rider showed no intention of slowing. Once again, he urged his steed to speed up; to push past his own limits. 

Atsumu blinked. 

The canyon had another side, of course. Far, impossibly far. Too far to jump. A death wish. 

_No way_.

He pursued, keeping pace with the apparent adrenaline-addict until he couldn’t. Storm Chaser’s nostrils flared, his breath ragged. Seriously?

Atsumu did not want to try this.

He pulled back on his reins, his mount whinnying as it attempted to slow to a stop, hooves slipping on rock and gravel.

“Are you insane!?” He found himself shouting. No response. Only sweat and panting and hooves pounding.

“Hey!” _Do it._

“Stop!” _Faster._

"Can you hear me?" _Bet you'll make it._

“You’ll fall to yer goddamn death!” _I wanna see what you can do._

His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. He watched, transfixed, as the palomino reached the edge of the canyon. His own mount finally skidded to a stop. 

“Come on, Dorada!” The orange-haired thief shouted as his horse, with one final push, launched them into the air. 

Ah. Ain't that fitting?

Under the brilliant light of the sun at its peak, a strange sound echoed through the canyon. It took Atsumu a moment to realize it was laughter. Pure, unrestrained, delighted laughter.

Seated atop a golden horse, the man with fiery hair laughed as they flew across the gap in the earth, his bandana falling down to his chin. 

Atsumu could only stare, his breath hitched in his throat. 

They rose. They soared. They fell. Hooves met rock with inches to spare _and kept running_. 

The other rider expertly maintained his balance, leaning backward then forward with the impact of their landing to ensure the horse’s stability. 

_Holy shit_.

Atsumu released his breath, that grin of his plastering itself across his face again. His cheeks hurt about as much as his thighs.

The thief slowed his horse to a walk on the other side of the canyon, and he turned, sporting a blinding smile even from a distance, to give his pursuer a wave. 

_Cheeky little shit_.

Atsumu hopped off his horse and placed his hands on his hips, glancing around the jagged edges of the canyon, eyes tracing the ledge from left to right as far he could see. No way across, not nearby, anyway. He leered at the stranger in response, who simply redirected his attention to his front, no longer concerned about their pursuit. 

He watched until the other man shrunk to a speck on the horizon, idly stroking his panting stallion’s neck. That had to be the most thrilling ride of his life, and he didn’t even _do_ anything but observe. The rush, the pounding in his ears—he wanted more. 

Hoofbeats alerted him to his approaching coworkers, and he turned to see a roughed up Aran sharing a saddle with Rintarou, leaning heavily against his back. The other horse followed closely behind by a lead. Stopping just short of the drop, Rintarou let out a low whistle.

“Guess he got away.”

“Yeah, no thanks to _you_ ,” Atsumu scoffed, shifting to instead address the decidedly _better_ of his coworkers. “Y’alright, Aran? Got a sticker in yer beard.”

“I got stickers in places I didn’t even know I had,” the man sighed, reaching to tug at the burr lodged in his facial hair. “I’m alright, though. Scratched up ‘n bruised. That kid’s a damn good shot.”

“Was it just a kid? I couldn’t tell,” Rintarou squinted into the distance when Aran shrugged. “Where’d he learn to ride like that?”

“Oh, I’ll be damn sure to ask ‘im when I catch up.” Atsumu ignored the stares he earned with that statement and turned to re-mount his horse, which shifted under his weight and lifted his head. He cocked an eyebrow at the two men. “What, ya really thought I’d just let ‘im go like that?”

Aran and Rintarou exchanged a glance. 

“No, not really.” Aran slouched his shoulders with a resigned sigh. “But I’m goin’ home. Just don’t get yerself killed.”

“Guy didn’t seem too interested in killin’, so I’ll be fine. Probably.” Atsumu moved his steed closer to Rintarou’s. “Gimme yer canteen. Oh, and the hat!” 

With the items exchanged, he bid his companions farewell and set Storm Chaser off at a brisk walk along the edge of the dropoff. The train made use of a bridge quite a ways down, he remembered, perhaps an hour or two out of the way. He also needed to make sure to stop and let his stallion graze for a moment at the next patch of decent grass and water. Reliable as he was, Atsumu wasn’t sure his horse could handle another high-speed chase of that caliber without a chance to rest. 

All that would give the fiery thief a whole three or four hour head start, he mused, tapping a finger against his lips. Perfect. He won’t see him coming.   
  


The sun and its leeching, godforsaken heat steadily shifted lower in the sky, almost ready to touch the tips of distant mountains by the time Atsumu arrived at the very spot his target had landed after a seemingly impossible leap hours ago. 

He had indeed found the train’s bridge that crossed the chasm, as well as a patch of edible greenery fed by a small, trickling stream for Storm Chaser to feast on. A river ran through the land somewhere up ahead, he was sure. 

Now staring at a single set of hoofprints heading off in the dirt, chestnut eyes narrowed with new determination. It surely wasn’t going to be as easy as following a blatant trail the whole time. With a click of his tongue, the deputy set his mount onward at a full run in the direction the tracks led. 

Light faded from the open, wild world with the sun’s slow descent behind mountains, pulling its unbearable heat along with as if it were sluggishly lifting a thick wool blanket off the earth’s surface. A welcoming breeze shifted air with the promise of cooler temperatures. Nocturnal wildlife rustled in the underbrush. An owl hooted. 

The hoof prints eventually merged with a road carved out by travel, muddled with cart wheel tracks, more hoof prints, and boot marks. This was where the tracking became difficult. Overhead a three-quarter moon and multitude of stars illuminated the dusty road, but it was barely enough to see any detail. Atsumu squinted through the dim light, bringing Storm Chaser to a canter. Just a little longer for a sign, any sign, of the escapee before he’d have to give in and make camp for the night. 

The population of plantlife increased as he carried onward, brush thickening to tight clusters of evergreen trees with wispy leaves swaying in the wind. Rushing water could be heard nearby, its mellow roar growing louder and closer with each of the stallion’s steps, now slowed to a tired walk. Atsumu emptied the last of his borrowed canteen into his mouth, lowering the container with a frustrated huff. It was getting late. He and Storm Chaser needed sleep. 

He pulled his horse to a stop and tilted his head back to stare up at the moon looming overhead as if it had all the answers. Of course tonight wouldn’t follow the idealized plan he had in mind, but come on! That redheaded maniac had to be somewhere nearby!

The moon neither read his thoughts nor answered, because it hated him. It rippled in the sky.

Atsumu blinked. Wait, what? He squinted, watching as a patch of discolored air passed upward over the moon, briefly distorting its view. Smoke. Just a tiny amount drifting up through the night sky, barely noticeable. Must be from a small flame. Like a campfire. His heartbeat quickened as he traced his gaze directly downward, somewhere through the trees toward the river. 

His thief. 

Or, he reasoned, perhaps another weary traveler, ideally willing to share food. He was starving. 

Or even better, perhaps a lone young lady down on her luck, lost in the wilderness, just waiting for a handsome traveler like himself to swoop in to offer comfort and protection. They would laugh and share stories around the fire before making passionate love beneath the stars. He would escort her safely to the nearest town in the morning, promising to return one day after he heroically captured his foe. 

Okay, focus.

Atsumu hoped beyond anything that it was the fiery outlaw who started the alleged campfire, even if the other two options really did sound nice. Hell, perhaps the guy was asleep, and this would be an easy arrest. 

Glancing around, he picked out a patch between bushes just big enough for Storm Chaser to squeeze by, and he led him off the road into the thicket. Once he was sure his horse wouldn’t be visible from the road, Atsumu slid off the saddle and tethered the reins to the low branch of a tree. He gave the beast’s nose a pat and pressed a finger to his lips before turning to sneak through the underbrush. 

It didn’t take long for his suspicions to be proven true. 

Movement ahead spiked his adrenaline, and he swiftly fished his revolver out of its holster. Quietly stepping forward, he squeezed through the bushes to come face-to-face with Dorada, the golden palomino. The mare blinked at him, flicking an ear and snorting as she lowered her head to graze. She was tied to a nearby bush.

Unable to help himself, Atsumu gently reached forward to place a hand on her neck, fingers stroking her velvety coat. Beautiful. 

Now, where was her rider?

Taking a deep breath, he crept toward the sound of the river. He could smell the campfire now, along with the scent of something cooking. Fish, he guessed. With a few more steps, he found himself on the outer edge of a clearing on the riverbank, a small fire indeed crackling in its center. 

He noted a stake holding three small fish leaned against the fire’s edge, a belt with a familiar holstered revolver resting on the ground, a rifle propped up against a stump, and clothes draped over a tree branch. Brown eyes darted this way and that. Where was he? 

Atsumu edged his way into the campsite on high alert, stepping around to the side until the splashing of water caught his attention. He looked out toward the river. 

Illuminated by moonlight and fire, a figure crouched in the middle of the slow running body of water, fingers threading through his wild orange locks, water lapping at his shoulder blades, his back to the campsite. 

A thumb pulled the revolver’s hammer back, readying the next chamber. The all-too-familiar _click_ of a cocking gun made the thief visibly freeze. After a few heartbeats, he turned his head just enough to get a look at the man intruding upon his bath. 

“Ah,” the man released a sigh, “I let my guard down too quickly, didn’t I?”

“Sure did,” Atsumu practically sang, a smirk playing on his features. He stood in the open now, his handgun trained on his opponent’s back. “Can’t say I blame ya, though. This is a nice spot.”

“I really thought so,” the redhead mused, moving his hands up in the air to signal his surrender. He turned around to face his pursuer and rose from his crouch in the water, its surface now dancing around his hip bones. “So, what now?”

It took a moment for Atsumu to answer. He definitely wasn’t noticing how the sheen of the moon’s light beautifully contoured the guy’s shoulders and arms. Or how the fire’s flickering glow danced playful shadows across his toned chest and abdominal muscles. Or how the softness of his roundish facial features deeply contrasted the (amused?) curve of his lips. Or the little droplets of river water leaving streaks as they ran down his tapered waist. Or how, while being held at gunpoint, the man held his gaze with more confidence and curiosity than concern for his own well-being, it made Atsumu’s stomach perform a somersault in his gut. 

“I’m arrestin’ ya,” he managed, tightening his grip on the revolver. “And I’m gonna take ya back to town, where yer gonna return what ya stole and pay for yer crimes.”

“Oh, alright, then.” The thief smiled, then lowered his head, casting a sheepish glance between Atsumu and the clothes hanging from their tree branch. “Mind if I get dressed before you do that?”

Alright, then? Atsumu flicked his eyes between the man and his hanging clothes. Suspicious, he moved to check each of the garments for hidden weapons, digging in pockets and feeling for anything that could potentially be used for an assault. The fiery thief waited patiently. Finding nothing, Atsumu took a few paces back to place himself in front of the rifle and handgun belt, effectively blocking them from the other man’s use. 

“Sure, go ahead.” He didn’t lower his gun. “I’m not lookin’ to haul a naked guy into town. Can you imagine what that’d do to my image?”

That pulled a giggle from the other man, who began to make his way toward his clothing, water sloshing around his ankles as he walked. “Is your image all that important?” Showing neither shame for his nudity nor worry for the gun at his back, he faced away, tugging his drawers and trousers free from the tree.

“Important enough.”

Atsumu wasn’t staring, he was just appreciating what years of labor and intense horseback riding could do to a man’s body. Hardened muscle rippled over the thief’s back, flexing and shifting beneath skin contrastingly fair to his sun-tanned face and forearms as he moved. Brown eyes followed the valley of his spine down to an ass that looked so round and squeezable, he was disappointed when dark brown trousers were finally hitched up over his hips. 

He… really didn’t have an excuse for that last thought. 

The orange-haired man glanced back, an eyebrow arched in a quizzical look. 

“Huh?”

A smirk. “I asked you for your name, Mister Important,” he hummed, pulling on his black shirt. 

“Deputy Atsumu Miya,” Atsumu responded proudly, tilting his chin upward and silently praying to whoever was listening that the outlaw hadn’t noticed him staring. Er, appreciating. “Don’t forget it, ‘cause I’m the guy who’ll make sure yer locked up for a good long time.”

“Aah. Astumu, then. I’ll be sure to remember!” The other man faced him after buttoning and tucking his shirt, hands busy rolling up the sleeves. 

“Gonna give me yers?” Atsumu asked, looking forward to finally putting a name to the face of this fiery thief, who irritatingly enough, snickered at him.

“Why, so you can put it on wanted posters after I make my daring escape?”

Atsumu snorted. “‘Fraid that won’t be necessary, since that’s not gonna happen.”

The man leaned down to pull his socks and boots over his feet, giving them both a solid stomp after doing so. Fully dressed, he crossed his arms over his chest and leered at the deputy. 

“Are you sure?”

Thick brows scrunching together, Atsumu took a threatening step forward. “Positive, Golden Boy.” Heat rose to his cheeks in embarrassment when the other man slowly mouthed the nickname. It was the first thing that popped into his head!

“Y-ya know, the horse! I’m callin’ ya _somethin’_ since yer name’s such a big secret!”

Golden Boy laughed at that, nodding his understanding. “I guess that’s fair. I don’t mind.” He tilted his head to the side. “Guess you’re taking me in now?”

“S’right.” Atsumu nodded. “Jus’ gotta tie ya up, and…” He blinked, glancing down at his belt, then around the campsite. Shit. Fuck. Shit. He left his rope and cuffs back with Storm Chaser on his saddle. How the hell did he not think to bring them?!

“You’re not very good at this, are you?” The redhead asked, his amused grin widening when Atsumu sputtered. “I have rope on my horse, if you want to use that.”

“I’m perfectly fine at this!” Ears burning, the deputy glanced back at the palomino near the edge of the campsite, a coiled rope indeed hanging from a saddle hook. “Go get the damn rope. If you try _anything_ , I’m shootin’.”

Golden Boy offered a bright, innocent smile. “I know, I know.”

“And keep yer hands where I can see ‘em!”

The thief casually kept his hands raised as he slowly stepped toward his steed, carefully reaching to lift the rope from its hook. He made a show of dangling the rope overhead before approaching Atsumu, extending an arm to offer the item. The deputy quickly snatched it, keeping his revolver trained on the guy’s head. 

“Good. Now turn around, hands behind yer back.”

The outlaw did as he was told, his movements slow and deliberate. Atsumu almost didn’t like how compliant the man was being, but then again, he was unarmed and at gunpoint. The deputy smirked. He had this in the bag. Needing two hands to make use of the rope, he holstered his revolver. 

The powerful leg that kicked out and swept his feet from under him should have been expected, he realized after his dire mistake, along with the elbow that forcefully jabbed him in the solar plexus, knocking the wind out of his lungs. Fuck, he was such an idiot. Stumbling, he fell backwards with a pained gasp, landing square on his back in the rocky dirt. He fumbled to pull his gun from its holster, but the thief wasted no time in tackling him, shoving a knee down onto his wrist before he could pull the weapon free. 

Struggling to get his lungs functioning, Atsumu squirmed and kicked at his assailant, landing a heavy punch against his shoulder. He wrenched his other hand free and grabbed at the man’s shirt in an attempt to drag him off, but the outlaw grabbed and twisted at his wrists, using his body weight to lean forward and trap his arms between them. This guy must’ve been at least a head shorter than Atsumu, but _fuck_ was he strong! 

Golden Boy grunted as he extended an arm out past Atsumu's head where his own revolver and rifle sat, fingers just barely brushing against the rifle’s wooden stock. 

“No, ya fuckin’ don’t!” Atsumu heaved before planting a foot down and hurling the thief off of him with all his might. Kicking and punching, they both scrambled for their weapons. The deputy frantically drew and cocked the revolver from his hip, just a second too slow. When he looked up, the polished wooden butt of a rifle filled his vision and hit him squarely in the face. Hard. 

He fell to the ground with a heavy thud, blurring vision catching a glimpse of the fiery thief leaning over him before everything went black.   
  


Atsumu’s head _hurt_. His arms felt numb. His back prickled against something rough and hard, and his legs felt like they were scraping against rocks. It was cold. 

Bleary eyes slowly opened, blinking through the faint light of dawn at the smoldering remains of a campfire. Groaning, he lifted his head and blinked again, more of the campsite coming into view. A river flowed gracefully to his left, and to his right… 

A man in a vest and a brown leather hat stroked Storm Chaser’s muzzle, cooing gently at the stallion before turning to look at Atsumu. 

“Oh! Good morning!” The thief offered a cheery smile. “I’m really sorry about what happened last night, I didn’t mean to hit you quite so hard.”

Atsumu stared, memories of their encounter slowly returning to his mind, but that wasn’t his immediate concern. The hat and vest the outlaw had donned… those were _his_. All at once the reason why he felt so uncomfortable became painfully clear.

He was naked, except for his boots.

Naked with his hands tied behind him to a tree. 

“Y-yer… What did ya-” He sputtered, feeling every part of him go red. “Where the fuck ‘re my clothes!?”

The redhead giggled, one hand scratching at Storm Chaser’s neck. 

“I needed some spares, so I took them! They’re a little big, but I’ll make them work, don’t worry.”

As if that were a worry of his. 

“Ya can’t just fuckin-”

“I also found a bunch of useful stuff in your saddlebags, so I took all that, too,” the outlaw continued without a care. “Oh! And I really appreciate you bringing me my hat!” He pulled said hat from where it had been sitting on the saddle and examined it. “Although, to be honest, I think I like this one better.” He turned toward him and flicked the brim of Atsumu’s hat with a wink, his eyes slowly roaming over the larger man’s body like he was some sort of animal caught in a trap, waiting for slaughter.

The deputy was _seething_ . “Little _fuckin’ shit_. When I get outta this, I’m gonna-”

With a few fluid steps, the fiery thief squatted at Atsumu’s side and leaned in close; close enough for Atsumu to feel his hot breath tickle his lips; close enough to see a faint spattering of freckles dotting his boyish features; close enough to somehow feel even more exposed than he already was beneath that tawny gaze. 

“You’ll what?”

Atsumu swallowed. 

“I’ll arrest ya,” he replied. Shit, was his voice shaking? “Those robbery charges are stackin’ up.”

Golden Boy smirked, sounding an amused hum through his nose. “If you say so.” With that, he dropped his old hat atop Atsumu’s groin and stood, raising his arms in a languid stretch. “You can keep that, I don’t need it anymore. I bet the strap will be easy to replace.”

Ignoring Atsumu’s shout in protest, the man moved away to his own horse nearby, swinging himself up into the saddle.

“What, so yer just gonna leave me tied up here to die?” The deputy huffed, glaring daggers, trying to calm his roaring heartbeat. 

Moving his horse a few paces toward Atsumu, the outlaw laughed and crossed his arms against the beast’s neck, leaning forward to rest his cheek against them, making his hat sit askew on his head. The sight would have almost looked cute if Atsumu didn’t want to strangle the other man to death. 

“Don’t be so dramatic, I barely tightened the rope. You’ll be free in no time!” 

Atsumu gave the rope an experimental tug. Well, he wasn’t wrong. 

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have places to be!” Golden Boy straightened himself in his saddle and tipped his hat into place. “Hope your image doesn’t suffer too much after hauling a naked guy into town.” 

Atsumu gaped at him. There were no words. 

Waving, the thief clicked his tongue and set his palomino off into the bushes back toward the road, that amused smirk never leaving his lips. 

“Hey.”

No response. 

“ _Hey!_ ”

Nothing. 

“YOU FUCKIN’ SHIT, GET BACK HERE!” 

Only the river’s gurgling and the cry of a nearby hawk answered him. Storm Chaser nibbled on a bush.   
  


Sometimes life just sucked. It was easy to step in horse shit or drink enough to have a bad hangover or miss a nice shot or accidentally sleep with someone’s wife. That was just the way of the world. 

But _this_.

This was hell. 

Atsumu kept the black leather hat with the broken chin strap tilted low against the sunset, his expression worn and completely deadpan as he rode Storm Chaser through a narrow side road in town toward his residence. He had thought about waiting until after dark when most people would be asleep, but he simply couldn’t take it anymore. He was exhausted.

After freeing himself from the tree near the river, it took the entire day to get back home, and he hadn’t been able to ride fast at all because anything more than a steady walk hurt his balls and chafed his thighs too much. It has been a slow, gruelling day under the scorching sun. He probably would have died of heat exhaustion if the fucking little shit thief hadn’t been gracious enough to leave a canteen behind. 

So of course people saw, even when he tried to slip in from a side entrance. He willed himself not to care.

He cared.

Seeing the expression on his face and absolute shit state of his _everything_ , nobody actually asked, but he heard gasps and snickers that would probably haunt him for the rest of his life. People stared. A wide-eyed Rintarou popped his head out a window. That pretty girl with dark eyes stifled either a gasp or a laugh. Probably a laugh.

He wanted to die. 

But before he wanted to die, he wanted to wash up, eat something, and sleep. 

When the deputy made it to his residence, he tossed his horse’s reins over a hook, because _fuck it_ , and went inside, slamming the door of his small wooden house behind him. 

He gave himself a sponge bath, cursing all the while at his sunburnt skin. He shoveled bits of jerky and a whole loaf of bread into his mouth. He took five chugs from a bottle of whiskey.

After donning the softest linens he had, Atsumu flopped face down onto his mattress and stayed there, stewing in shame and pure rage.

Fuck. 

He could never leave this building again. This really was his home now. 

Everything hurt. His pride, his body—they fucking hurt. His fucking skin had been fried to a fucking crisp under the fucking sun, he had a massive fucking bruise on his forehead, his fucking thighs were rubbed fucking raw on his fucking saddle, his fucking balls felt like they had taken a fucking beating, and not in a good way. 

All because of the fucking shit thief with both riding skills and a horse he didn’t fucking deserve; the guy who had no fucking business looking as good as he did or have mesmerizing fucking eyes; the guy who kept intruding upon his thoughts with his fucking toned-ass muscles and pretty-ass… _ass_ and lips that had gotten _way too close_ that one time, and thinking too much about it on the trip back had given him the _weirdest fucking boner_ he’d ever had; the guy who fucking stole all his fucking clothes and made him endure the whole fucking miserable fucking trip back to fucking town.

“Fuck!” He shouted into his pillow for good measure. 

No, he couldn’t just stay in his house for the rest of his life. 

Atsumu turned his head to the side, glowering at an oil lamp on his bedside table. There was no way in hell he was gonna let Golden Boy get away with this. Eyelids drooping, he could feel exhaustion and alcohol overtaking him. 

He had a thief to catch. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


Osamu should have been used to this by now. His eyebrow twitched in irritation as he stared down the barrel of a revolver pointed at him by a very hostile and very confused looking man with wildly orange hair, his hands raised in surrender.

The guy’s wide eyes bounced from his face to his hair to the door of the saloon.

“When did-? _How_ did-?” He sputtered, brow knit in genuine confusion. 

Osamu sighed. 

“Look, whatever ‘Tsumu did with yer wife or yer sister or whoever, it’s got nothin’ to do with me.”

A few patrons seated around the bar observed the exchange with tense interest. 

The other man blinked, his aim holding steady. “You’re not… Atsumu Miya.”

“Nope.” He responded, sliding his half-lidded gaze to the side from behind the bar. “Just got the unfortunate curse of sharin’ a face with ‘im.” He offered an easy smile. “Twin brother. Name’s Osamu. Nice to meet ya.”

Looking a little flustered at his mistake, the other man slowly lowered and holstered his weapon. “Oh… sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Happens all the time.” Osamu shrugged, lowering his hands to resume pouring a glass of whiskey for a customer before he’d been interrupted. He slid it down to an elder gentleman seated toward the end of the bar. “Idiot doesn’t know how to keep it in his pants.”

“It’s nothing like that,” the orange-haired man chuckled. “I just didn’t think I’d see him again so soon.”

“Ah,” the bartender responded lightly. “So yer runnin’ from him?”

“You could say that.” 

The stranger froze immediately, realizing the implications of him admitting to running from a lawman. His hand twitched near his revolver. 

Osamu’s eyes flicked down to the weapon before holding the man in a long, steady gaze.

“If ya pay yer bill and don’t start a ruckus, we won’t have an issue.” With another grin, he grabbed a glass from his counter and flipped it in his hand. “So what’ll it be?”

Visibly relaxing, the other man sighed and seated himself on one of the barstools. “I can do that. Do you have food here? I’m starving.”

“Just made beef stew. Goes great with the house beer.”

“That sounds amazing!”

“Then it’s comin’ right up.”

Soon enough, Osamu found himself leaning against the counter, watching the redhead scarf down a bowl of his stew with _mm’s_ and _aah’s_ and compliments galore. Possible criminal or not, he liked this guy. After the man gulped down a few sips of beer, he had to ask. 

“So what didja do?”

The guy paused, eyeing him carefully. “You’re just trying to get me to confess.”

“Never said ya had anything to confess for.”

He sputtered, flushing. Osamu chuckled. 

“Naw, I’m not talkin’ about whatever you did to piss off the law,” he clarified, leaning forward on an elbow. “I wanna know why ya looked borderline _terrified_ the moment ya saw my face. If ya did something to piss off ‘Tsumu personally, I wanna know about it.”

The stranger regarded him for a long moment before speaking. 

“I sort of…” He looked almost guilty, reaching to rub the back of his neck. Osamu was intrigued. “...took all his clothes so he’d have to ride back into town naked.”

The bartender blinked. “What?”

“I-it’s just, he said something about his image, and I thought it would be funny, and…” He trailed off, expression diffident. 

Osamu’s shoulders were shaking. He couldn’t take it. 

_Holy fucking shit_.

Laughter erupted from him like a volcano, startling patrons into looking his way, his new favorite person in the entire fucking world included. He couldn’t help it. It wouldn’t stop. 

“That’s-” He wheezed after a moment, grasping at his aching sides. “That’s hilarious! I would’ve given anything to see that!” Another fit overtook him, and he doubled over. The other man covered his mouth to hide his giggling. 

“It was pretty funny. You should’ve seen his face!”

After another few minutes, Osamu was back to leaning against the counter, wiping tears from his eyes. “Ah, the bastard deserved a good ol’ fashioned reality check,” he sighed, feeling light from his unrestrained joy. “Yer beer’s free for that one.”

The stranger took a sip of said beer. “Thanks! Honestly, I felt kinda bad, but I bet it sure taught him to not mess with me anymore.”

“Oh, no, yer way off there.” Osamu shook his head.

“What do you mean?”

“Ya humiliated him. He ain’t gonna take that lyin’ down.”

“I’ve got days on him now. There isn’t much of a point.”

“You don’t know ‘Tsumu,” the bartender responded evenly. “Whether it makes sense to ya er not, he’s definitely comin’ fer ya.”

A smirk curled its way onto the other man’s lips, the glint in his eye something akin to _excitement_.

“I guess we’ll see, then.”

Osamu hummed before stepping away to address a customer. Looked like Atsumu was in for quite a ride.   
  


They chatted well into the night, the stranger even offering to help clean up and stack chairs when the bar closed. Osamu had to admit the guy was easy to talk to and probably one of the friendliest people he’d ever met. What the hell did he do that got Atsumu chasing after him in the first place? Smile too hard at someone?

“Thanks again for the meal, it was one of the best I’ve ever had!” The shorter man said cheerily as he stood in the doorway, flashing another grin. “I should really get going.” He turned to walk out the door.

Osamu raised his glass of whiskey—a nightly routine of his after cleaning up and closing. 

“Oh, by the way!”

The man paused in the doorway, looking back curiously. 

“Ya got a name?”

He blinked at the bartender, considering the question for a moment before answering with a bright smile. 

“Shouyou.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> Not only is this my first contribution to this fandom, but it's the first time I've published fanfiction in the last decade! I had a lot of fun writing this, and I have so much more planned for this piece!  
> Comments and kudos are highly appreciated. Feel free to interact on [twitter](https://twitter.com/Koocatoo) !


	2. Thinkin' Too Much

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has a [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/04uEZElNSzyrItDh2NLxUz) ! Feel free to listen as you read and drop song suggestions in the comments.

A gentle knocking echoing through thin wooden walls disturbed the morning’s still silence, its faint pulse prompting a sluggish eyelid open. Atsumu had been awake for a while, the burden of both his own thoughts and exhaustion in his limbs keeping him sunken into his mattress. His body still ached from the previous day’s unfortunate activities. Sunlight streaming through a gap between the curtains of a nearby window told him the day was well underway—probably close to noon.

A slow sigh left his nostrils, warming the feather pillow beneath his face. He couldn’t just lie around and waste the days away; he couldn’t hide his face forever. Besides, he had a multitude of preparations to make before leaving on a journey he already fully decided was non-negotiable.

That smarmy little thief needed to be brought to justice and get a good, hard ass-kicking. Then, perhaps, they would have the opportunity to discuss their experiences riding out in the wild. He had a feeling the guy had plenty of exciting stories to tell. Maybe he would have the opportunity to ride the magnificent palomino, while they’re at it.

He really wished he could erase the part of his memory involving his awe with the outlaw’s incredible shooting and riding skills. Being mad and only mad was so much easier.

A little more insistent, the tapping at his door sounded again, forcing the deputy to raise his head with a soft groan. He had a feeling he knew who awaited him outside. Shuffling out of bed, he padded through his modest home, wood planks creaking beneath his feet. Unlatching an iron lock, he cracked open the door just enough to squint outside. A calm smile greeted him.

“Good mornin’, Atsumu,” Shinsuke addressed him, holding up a cloth sack in his hand. “Mind if I come in?”

Atsumu allowed himself a moment to consider simply closing the door and returning to bed, but instead he wordlessly stepped to the side, dragging the door along its hinges enough for his superior to step inside. In the back of his mind, he knew he probably needed whatever was going to come out of this.

Sheriff Shinsuke Kita had only a year on him, but the silver-haired man acted like an old, seasoned grandpa—which Atsumu meant in the nicest way possible—in terms of his diligence to both his work and tradition. That, and he had a terrifying stare seemingly backed by a lifetime of experience the younger man did his best to avoid. The thing could curdle dairy.

It was why, after their previous sheriff suffered an unfortunate accident involving a large cart, the townsfolk had no complaints when Shinsuke took over. He stepped in with clearly defined confidence in both his abilities and his fellow lawmen.

When Atsumu thought about it, it was almost comical how a group of twenty-somethings managed to hold most of the authority in their tiny farmtown, aside from the mayor.

The other man strode into his home, casting a quick glance around before settling his perceptive gaze upon Atsumu, who quickly shut and locked the door behind him with a _click_. Quite frankly, Atsumu looked like shit, and he knew it. The dark blues, purples, and yellows of a throbbing bruise blossomed in the middle of his forehead, while the rest of his skin ranged from a light dusting of pink to a deep, sour red, courtesy of yesterday’s sun.

“How do ya feel?” Shinsuke asked. Atsumu scoffed.

“What do ya think?” The deputy turned to move into his small kitchen space, grunting as tender skin stretched when he squatted in front of his cast-iron stove. He heaved a few sticks and logs into its cavity and set them ablaze with a match. Behind him, he heard the sheriff seat himself at the table, the chair creaking under his weight.

“I s’pose that was rather obvious, yes.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Atsumu huffed as he stood, giving his kettle a shake to determine if he had enough water for two. Good enough. Placing this atop the stove, he turned around and crossed his arms over his chest. “Have ya ever had a sunburnt dick? Because I have a sunburnt dick, and it _really_ sucks.”

Shinsuke stifled a quiet chuckle. “I can’t say I have, but it sounds like it’s a good thing I brought this.” Placing his bag on the table’s surface, he reached inside to pull out a small glass jar filled with some sort of thick salve. “This should help yer skin heal. I also brought a few eggs and biscuits from the farm, if ya like.”

Atsumu blinked, staring at his superior’s offering. If there was one person he could probably count on to not outwardly make fun of his plight, it was Shinsuke. He could feel his irritation melting away.

“Y-yeah… I can cook ‘em up for us, if yer hungry.” A little bashful, he returned his attention to the stove. “Thanks.”

They didn’t say much as Atsumu made coffee, cooked the eggs, and warmed the biscuits. Soon enough, they were seated across from each other at the table with plates of steaming food before them. Shinsuke released a contented hum with his first bite.

“So,” he finally said, “tell me what happened. I only have half the story.”

The deputy chewed his eggs slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on his plate. “Well…”

He recounted everything that happened after the thief jumped the canyon, figuring the first-half of the story left off with Aran and Rintarou’s experience. The detour, the tracking, the discovery of the other man’s riverside campsite, their brawl, and his ultimate humiliating defeat. He kept the details sparse, but by the end of his tale, he was glowering down at his meal as if it were to blame for the whole thing. He stabbed a piece of egg with his fork, but it didn’t make him feel any better.

“And when I get my hands on ‘im, I’ll tie ‘im up in the sun for a day or two. See how he likes it.” Atsumu scooped up a bite of egg, cursed when it fell back to his plate, and scooped at it again. “Then keep ‘im locked up for… ever, I dunno.”

“I see,” Shinsuke hummed thoughtfully, taking a long sip of coffee. “So yer plannin’ to go after him again? Are ya sure that’s the right thing to do?”

Atsumu stopped chewing. “Of _course_ it is! I can’t just let the guy get away with it!” In what world would letting him go be the correct course of action?

“I understand,” the sheriff explained, blinking at his coworker. “Though, the thief has a mighty head start on ya, and besides… ya have a duty to this town.”

“Catching the thief who stole our money is helping this town.” Atsumu’s brow furrowed. What was Shinsuke getting at?

“Runnin’ off and abandonin’ yer responsibilities to chase a potentially dangerous criminal who personally slighted ya wouldn’t reflect well on our town or the rest of us, Atsumu.”

Well, no, but he wasn’t planning on loudly proclaiming his hometown everywhere he went. His eyes widened in realization.

“Wait… am I being fired?”

“If ya chase yer thief, I’d consider it only a temporary leave,” the other man replied, offering a slight smile to ease the deputy’s worry. “I’m not here to stop ya. I don’t think I could if I tried.” He chuckled softly. “But I need to keep both yers and the townsfolk’s safety in mind. Stretching this issue further than our own walls could be dangerous. We don’t know who he’s involved with.”

The younger man shifted his gaze to the side as he bit the inside of his cheek. He hadn’t even thought of that. The fiery outlaw could very well have been part of a gang or something of the sort. He’d heard of a few particularly nasty groups barrelling through towns with little regard for human life. His thief didn’t quite seem like a ruthless gang member, but how would he know? This was the reason why Sheriff Kita fit his position so well.

“I get it… Guess I can still turn ‘im in to the closest town when I catch ‘im.”

“I’m glad you understand. I’ve already drafted a warrant for his arrest to send to nearby establishments, though a physical description only helps so much. It’s a shame ya didn’t catch his name.”

Feeling bitter, Atsumu bit his cheek harder. “Yeah.”

They finished breakfast. Shinsuke thanked Atsumu for his time and reminded him to use the salve before he left.

“I’ll see ya soon,” the man said as he walked out the door. “And Atsumu?”

Atsumu blinked, regarding his superior with the ghost of a pout on his features.

“Try not to think about it too much.”

So he didn’t.

Atsumu slathered himself in the salve. It was oily and smelled awful, but it started cooling his skin the second he applied it. He shaved. He got dressed. He dedicated himself to normal, mundane chores.

Forcing every ounce of shame out of his mind, he took Storm Chaser to the stables, where he spent the better part of the afternoon trimming his hooves, replacing his shoes, and giving him a thorough cleaning. He scrubbed and polished his saddle until he could nearly see his reflection in the worn leather, every action mechanical and soothing in its own way. Thankfully, nobody seemed interested in bothering him.

Unfortunately the thinking couldn’t be kept at bay forever.

He thought about his place in town; his family; his coworkers. He remembered the thief and his skillful, energetic chase; his golden horse; his captivating gaze. Despite his lingering anger, he simply couldn’t deny that the past few days had been some of the most arduous, yet most fun of his life—the first half, anyway.

It wasn’t only for revenge or justice that the deputy wanted to pursue the redheaded outlaw—as selfish as it was, he wanted the thrill.

Besides, his mind had already been made up.

Atsumu spent the rest of the day preparing for his trip, stopping by the general store for food and supplies, packing up a bedroll and a few travel necessities, and sifting through items in his home, packing away extra cash, his old harmonica, and the spare revolver his father had given him ages ago.

He replaced the leather chin strap on the thief’s hat, because yes, he was going to get his own hat back.

He was ready.

Dawn couldn’t come soon enough. With Storm Chaser packed up with his things, Atsumu settled himself into his saddle, taking a deep breath of crisp morning air. His body still ached, but the salve had really relieved the worst of his prickling burn. Thick leather riding chaps helped to soothe his chafed thighs and prevent further damage. Brimming with resolve and anticipation, he urged his steed onward toward the edge of town.

On his way, he passed the sheriff’s office, where he spotted Shinsuke filling the horses’ trough outside. Fearing a look of disappointment, he offered a tentative wave as he passed, and to his surprise, the sheriff simply smiled softly and nodded, bidding the man a silent farewell.

Okay.

He set Storm Chaser off at a canter, then a full gallop when he passed the settlement’s gate. They had a lot of ground to cover. Only when they reached the canyon’s edge did he slow his horse to a stop.

They both stared across the familiar chasm, the thief’s incredible leap replaying itself in Atsumu’s head.

“Think ya can make that, boy?” He asked his mount, leaning to pat his neck. “Sure would save us a lot of time.” Storm Chaser snorted and pawed at the ground. “Yeah, probably not with all this extra shit on ya, huh?”

He directed the stallion toward the same path they traveled alongside the canyon a couple days ago, a slight smile he couldn’t quite place the emotion behind tugging at his lips.

* * *

“You _what_!?”

Leaning on an elbow, Osamu threw his red-faced twin an amused smirk from across the bar. He shouldn’t have been surprised to find an exhausted Atsumu on his doorstep at eight in the morning, yet there he was, scarfing down the first edible thing he pulled out of storage in his empty saloon. Apparently the not-blonde had ridden through the night to make up for lost time.

Heh, idiot.

Commenting on the fact that Atsumu “remembered to wear clothes today”, pointing out how shitty his face looked, and mentioning how he himself really was the most handsome twin now had already riled up the other man, but he was sure he might have to dodge a punch with his next comment.

“Served ‘im stew, had a chat,” he answered casually. “Real nice guy. He told me about yer naked expedition. Pretty sure I’ve never laughed so hard in my life.” The bartender leaned back to indeed avoid a swipe from his brother.

“He’s an outlaw, ‘Samu! Ya can’t just-!” Atsumu trailed off with a frustrated groan.

“He paid for his shit and left a generous tip. I’ve got no issue here.”

“Yeah, with _stolen money_!”

“And I was none the wiser.” Osamu chuckled as he stepped to wipe down a few utensils for the day. “‘Sides, if money’s all Shouyou took, he can’t be all bad.”

Atsumu stared. “Shouyou? Ya got his _name_?”

“Yep.”

The bartender watched his brother release a heavy sigh and lean down to rest the side of his face on the bar’s polished surface.

“Shouyou,” the fake-ass-blonde repeated, knitting his brow. “Least I know the name of both the best rider and biggest asshole I’ve ever seen. Congratulations, ya did somethin’ useful, fer once.”

Osamu’s eyebrows met his hairline. “Best rider? Now that’s not a compliment ya give often.”

Another frustrated groan. “Ya should’ve seen ‘im, ‘Samu.”

Atsumu proceeded to elaborate on his claim, describing the chase with building enthusiasm and punctuating statements with wild hand gestures. Osamu had never seen his twin so excited about someone else, much less a criminal. Interesting.

“So yer not just chasin’ him ‘cause yer pissed,” he stated when Atsumu finished his story.

“What? No, I’m definitely pissed the fuck off!”

“But ya wanna see ‘im in action again.” A statement.

“I mean, that’ll probably come with the job, so… sure. I guess.” Atsumu averted his gaze.

The bartender quirked an incredulous brow. “So do ya wanna shoot ‘im more or ride with ‘im more? Gettin’ mixed signals here.”

Atsumu’s hesitation essentially answered his question.

“I don’t know! Both?” He scoffed, redirecting his attention to his food. “At the end of the day, he just needs to be put away, so shaddup.”

Osamu hummed in response, allowing silence to settle between them while he cleaned a glass in his hands. His twin was certainly in over his head if he couldn’t decide if he actually hated the guy or not, which, fair. Shouyou didn’t seem very easy to dislike after his brief interaction with the man. When Atsumu finished his food, he finally spoke.

“Since yer all buddy-buddy with him, did Shouyou say anything about where he was going?”

In the midst of organizing all of his cleaned glasses, the bartender glanced upward in thought.

“He mentioned somethin’ about knowing people in Misbury after I told ‘im I was interested in opening a full restaurant there. Said he’d put in a good word for me. Ain’t that sweet?”

Atsumu looked skeptical. “The city? That’s fuckin’ far. Sure he wasn’t just plantin’ information to keep ya off his trail?” Osamu shrugged.

“Honestly, I don’t think so. Seemed pretty genuine to me.”

With that, he reached into a pocket of his trousers, fumbling through its contents in search of his pocket knife and grimacing when he was unable to find it. He checked his other pocket; his shirt; his apron.

“Shit,” he muttered, grabbing a blade from under the bar to work at the lid of a container of apricot preserves, figuring he must’ve left his own knife at home. He almost didn’t notice his brother stand from the bar and lean backward to crack his back.

“I’d best be on my way, then.”

“Pay for yer food first.”

“I’m sure Shouyou’s ‘generous tip’ of stolen money can cover this.”

“I’m serious, ‘Tsumu.”

“So am I, ‘Samu.” With a wink and a grin, Atsumu gave his twin a wave as he headed toward the door. “I’ll come visit after I put that bastard behind bars.”

Osamu sighed, reaching to grab his brother’s dirty plate as he watched him leave.

“Yer no better than a thief yerself. Good luck, asshole.”

* * *

If tracking Shouyou after only a few hours’ delay was difficult, finding him after nearly two days was going to be damn near impossible.

The better part of a week had passed since he left his brother’s saloon and, at the direction of one of the townsfolk who remembered seeing the guy leave, headed out into the wilderness. Judging by his slightly outdated map, a few smaller settlements dotted the eastward road, and a larger town rested at the base of distant mountains to the north. With no leads, Atsumu simply made his way to the next closest community a few days’ ride away.

A thin layer of clouds graciously concealed most of the sun’s blaring rays for much of the trip, abating the heat’s sharp edge and teasing much-needed rain. Atsumu couldn’t have been more grateful for his respite from its burning glower. Storm Chaser probably agreed.

Their days were spent galloping down dusty dirt paths; their nights cradled against off-road rock faces, sleeping under the open sky. It was dirty, uncomfortable, and unforgiving, yet Atsumu found himself gazing up at stars peeking through patches of cloud with a sense of freedom he hadn’t felt since he was a child. No rules, no responsibilities—only the fire driving him onward to capture his foe.

He wondered if this was how Shouyou always felt. Must be nice.

Atsumu made it a point to ask other travelers along the trail if they had recently seen a redhead on a palomino, each time being met with a shrug and a shake of their head. In towns, he didn’t stay long once he established that his thief wasn’t present, always heading back out after resupplying to cover more ground.

It wasn’t until the end of his sixth day of travel that an increasingly frustrated Atsumu finally got a lead.

With the fading blue and orange of dusk faintly lighting a road directed northward, he spotted a middle-aged couple seated atop the bench of a rickety stagecoach drawn by two horses, a lantern swinging from a long hook extended before them. Raising a hand in greeting, he slowed his stallion to a halt. The driver, a bespectacled man with a raggedy beard, pulled the reins to slow his carriage in turn.

“Howdy. Ya happen to see a redhead on a palomino pass this way?” He asked, the endlessly repeated question having long become little more than a dull string of syllables on his tongue. Really, he could only take so much disappointment.

The woman seated next to the coach’s driver perked up.

“Oh!” She leaned to look at her (presumed) husband. “Could he be talkin’ about the nice young man who helped us earlier?”

Atsumu’s heart nearly leapt out of his chest.

The man scratched at his beard in thought. “Very well might be.” He offered Atsumu a smile. “Saw someone like that earlier today outside ‘a town. One of our wheels broke off the wagon, ‘n the fella stopped to help us fix it.”

Well. Wasn’t that charitable of him?

“How long ago? Which town? Didja see which way he went?” Atsumu enthusiastically leaned forward in his saddle, drawing a chuckle from the couple.

“Karston, back that-a-way,” the driver replied, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “Happened just this afternoon. I reckon he’s stayin’ in town fer the night. He a friend ‘a yers?”

“Yeah,” Atsumu lied, a new determination flaring in his eyes as he flicked his gaze to the road ahead. “Been tryin’ to catch up with ‘im.”

“Well, good luck to ya.” The man snapped his reins, urging his horses into motion. He gave the younger man a friendly nod.

“Give ‘im our regards,” the woman called out as they passed. Atsumu gave them a wave before directing his attention forward, a grin splitting his features.

Finally.

Kicking his heels, he set Storm Chaser onward through the dying light.

Darkness had fully enveloped the town of Karston by the time Atsumu arrived hours later. It was a larger settlement harboring a train station responsible for hauling both people and materials up to mines in the mountains. At this hour, most storefronts had closed their doors, only a handful of bars emitting muffled light and laughter into the night.

Warily glancing about, Atsumu slowly rode his steed through the area, keeping an eye out for either the thief or his golden horse. He traveled up and down the main street, made a pass through each side road, and skirted the perimeter of the town. Nothing. He even checked a public set of stables near the gate to find it bereft of a certain palomino.

Becoming irate, he made his way to a cluster of buildings near the train station and slowed his mount to a halt. Could Shouyou have left already? Did he take the train up the mountain? Hell, was it even Shouyou the old couple had met earlier in the day?

Atsumu gnawed at his cheek. His next step would be to interview the locals, probably at one of the open pubs, to determine if they had seen where Shouyou had gone. Hell, perhaps he had already robbed somewhere and was the hot gossip of the hour.

Somewhere like the bank or the trade office he currently sat outside—the latter of which clearly occupied by someone getting some extra late-night work in, he guessed by the faint flicker of candlelight in a second-story window.

Atsumu squinted.

Which shouldn’t have been odd, right? The building’s owner could certainly have business to attend to.

Still… it was rather late.

He simply couldn’t help the suspicion prickling at the back of his mind.

Hopping off his horse, Atsumu stepped across the dirt road to the trade office, peering at the handwritten “closed” sign hanging from inside a front window. Carefully, he moved around the building to check for anything abnormal, but he stopped as soon as he rounded the first corner. The building had a side door, and it was cracked open, pieces of its lock resting on the ground before it.

Someone had broken in, and Atsumu had a feeling he knew exactly who the culprit was.

And hey, if not, he could still catch a criminal, right?

Heart pumping, he moved a hand back to tap the iron cuffs he linked to his belt - just to be sure, this time. Unholstering his revolver, he pushed the door open as quietly as possible, sending up a silent prayer when it didn’t squeak on its hinges. Taking a deep breath, he moved into the building, each step painstakingly slow against wood flooring that could certainly creak or click with the impact of his boot.

The office’s downstairs interior was simple enough—just a reception desk and a few dusty chairs sitting in front of a stairway leading to the next floor. He silently moved toward the stairs, hardly breathing as he gently placed his boots upon each step during his ascent.

Atsumu could see flickering candlelight coming from an open door down the hall from the stairway’s opening, and he could hear the sound of paper being shifted and moved around from within the room. Someone was definitely in there.

And that someone…

He edged closer to the door, ever so slightly leaning to the side to get a subtle peek inside.

… was indeed Shouyou.

The thief was hunched over a table littered with papers spilling out of a folder, which matched heavy stacks lined up in a bookcase against the wall. By the light of a single candlestick, he seemed to be scribbling certain bits of information from the papers to his own scrap piece with a pen.

Shouyou looked pensive, his brow creased just slightly, his lips pressed in a thin line. It was a strikingly different sight compared to the last time they met.

Atsumu’s eyes lingered on the other man’s features contoured by dancing firelight - the curve of his jaw, the tilt of his neck half-covered by a bandana loosely tied against his collar. He silently cursed himself for his vain attempts to suppress his distraction. Something about Shouyou simply drew the gaze. It wasn’t his fault the guy was charmingly audacious and well-built and had alluring eyes.

Eyes that were now locked with his own.

Breath hitching in his throat, Atsumu fully stepped out into the doorway, revolver cocked and aimed directly at his foe.

“Hands up!” He commanded sharply, staring down the sights of his weapon. “No sudden movements, asshole.”

Shouyou stayed where he was, taking a moment to regard Atsumu before the smallest of smiles tugged at his lips.

“I was beginning to think you weren’t even trying to catch up. Osamu was so convinced…” He trailed off, his smirk growing when Atsumu clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Although I don’t think I like your habit of sneaking up on me, Atsumu.”

“Tough shit, _Shouyou_ ,” Atsumu spat before producing a haughty grin of his own. “I’ve caught ya fair ‘n square.” Again. “Also, I really don’t appreciate ya tarnishin’ my brother’s business with yer stolen money.”

The other man hummed at the sound of his name, giving his head a small tilt to the side. “You don’t know which money I paid with. Could’ve been hard-earned.”

“Bullshit,” Atsumu scoffed. “Ain’t no difference comin’ from the likes of you.”

Shouyou then had the audacity to return his attention to the papers on the desk and scribble down another note. “If you say so. I see you kept my hat, though! It looks good on you.”

Atsumu wasn’t being taken seriously. Yet again.

Eyes narrowing, he swiftly adjusted his aim and pulled the trigger. With a jolting bang, he shot at the paper Shouyou wrote upon. The man’s pen clattered to the floor as he jumped back in surprise, wide eyes watching his ruined note flutter off the table. He slowly raised his hands.

“I’m not playin’ around,” Atsumu growled, inwardly very pleased with himself for hitting the paper and not the thief’s fingers. Shouyou wasn’t the only decent shot around here.

“Okay,” the thief responded slowly, keeping his tone level. “It’s just that I’m really busy. I haven’t even pulled off my big heist in this town yet.”

“What, this ain’t it?” Atsumu scoffed.

“Not at all,” Shouyou chuckled. “What am I supposed to do with a bunch of old trade documents?”

Atsumu took a few steps into the room, keeping his eyes trained on his target as he recocked his weapon. “You tell me. What’s so interestin’ about breakin’ into a trade office in the middle of the night?”

“Well…” The other man reached down to scoop a few of the topmost papers in the pile into his right hand, flinching when Atsumu shouted in protest. “I know, I know, just let me show you. It’s pretty hard to explain.” With his left, he slid the remaining papers into the folder before holding it out toward Atsumu, who simply glowered at the offering.

“The fuck am I lookin’ at?”

“Just a bit of reading.”

With a flick of his wrist, Shouyou flung the folder Atsumu’s way, putting a spin on it that made its contents haphazardly spiral out into the air. Fluttering sheets of paper filled his vision. Cursing in surprise, Atsumu’s finger tightened around the trigger of his revolver, but he heard the bullet’s impact with only the wall behind where Shouyou stood.

Said thief had taken the opportunity to duck around the side of the table. With a grunt, he heaved it up onto two legs like a shield and gave it a hefty kick toward the door, intending to slam it right into the other man.

Atsumu had only a split-second to raise his hands to stop the furniture from knocking him off his feet, its impact shaking his frame to the core. The candle that once rested upon its surface had gone along for the ride before sliding down to the floor, its flame catching the corner of one of the papers and spreading.

Alarmed, Atsumu began stomping on the fire. That shit could burn the whole fucking building down! The sound of glass breaking snapped his attention forward, and he shoved the table back onto its four legs just in time to see Shouyou climbing out a newly broken window. The thief turned to flash him a grin before reaching out to pull himself up onto the rooftop.

“Shouyou!” Atsumu shouted, cursing loudly as he finished stomping out the fire. He bolted across the room to the shattered window, first glancing down at the empty street below the two-story building before looking up toward the roof.

He was _not_ getting away.

Reaching to grab the roof’s lip, the man hoisted himself up to give chase, soon scrambling to his feet under the night sky. Shouyou was already at the other end of the structure, casting a quick glance back as he launched himself into the air, leaping to the nearby building next door with his stolen papers whipping around in his hand.

Atsumu followed suit, sprinting as fast as his legs could carry him to bound over the gap.

“I’m not lettin’ ya get away again!” He hollered, huffing as they ran and jumped to yet another building. Again he aimed and fired his weapon, hoping to hit maybe a leg or something that probably wouldn’t kill the guy. He cursed when it hit the roof near Shouyou’s feet. “Stop runnin’!”

“Stop shooting!” Shouyou shouted back, zipping to the side with a yelp when another bullet grazed the fabric of his trousers near his calf. Seeing that the next structure was only one-story, he leapt again, this time rolling with the impact on the lower platform before continuing his sprint.

Atsumu had to admit the move was very fluidly executed. Stupid thief just had to be equally skilled on and off horseback.

He saw one of the papers in Shouyou's hand slip out of his grasp in the process, and when he landed and rolled onto the lower rooftop himself, he made sure to snatch it. Clearly whatever was on the page held some level of importance to the thief.

He followed as Shouyou jumped down to the ground off the roof, Atsumu’s boots slipping on gravel after his heavy impact. Sprinting out into the street, he saw that the orange-haired man was already well on his way down the road.

Shit, he was fast!

So Atsumu ran.

They rounded a corner, jumped a stack of crates, and continued the chase until, finally, Shouyou shoved his way into the lobby of an inn. Atsumu burst through the door seconds later to see the thief already up on the second floor’s open balcony, hurriedly checking the knobs of each door as he ran past. One at the end of the corridor opened, and he quickly slipped inside.

Grimacing, Atsumu bounded up the stairs, skipping every other step, in a mad dash to the room, ignoring a shout of protest from a man behind the lobby’s counter and the stares of a few onlookers seated at a poker table. Reaching the end of the hall, he shoved the door open.

A young, dark-haired freckled man sat on the edge of a bed against the side wall, tightly clutching his nightshirt to his chest with wide eyes. Across from the door, curtains billowed softly in the breeze of an open window.

The man flicked his gaze from Atsumu to the window.

“U-um… He…”

Atsumu rushed to the window and leaned out to look around. No sign of the thief. He must’ve jumped down and run off around the corner.

Fuck, did Shouyou have invincible knees or something?

“Damnit,” he muttered, spinning on his heel to bolt out of the room. He wasn’t quite willing to take a drop from the second-story window.

Scrambling back down the stairs, he made his way outside and rounded the building, eyes frantically darting back and forth for any sign of movement. “Shouyou!”

Shit.

Atsumu chanced a right and ran down a side street. Nothing. He backtracked to search the other way. No sign.

Fuck.

His eyes scanned rooftops and alleys as he sprinted down the road, searching for any sign of the thief. No luck.

Fucking shit.

He slowed to a stop in the middle of the street, chest heaving from exertion. How? He lost sight of Shouyou for all of five seconds, and the guy completely disappeared? He had to be somewhere!

Remembering the paper now crumpled in his hand, Atsumu paused for a moment to hold it out and squint at its contents in the moonlight. Perhaps it had a lead?

Typed across the page was a series of names, numbers, and dates. It was a list of transactions at least a year old between the Equine Trading Company and a variety of different vendors. Atsumu recognized the name, at least; the ETC was a highly prestigious business when it came to breeding and trading horses. His own family had sold the occasional horse to their affiliates.

What the hell did that have to do with Shouyou? Why did he care about old business deals?

Most importantly, _where the everloving fuck did he go_?

Atsumu didn’t have time to dwell on what was probably meant to be a distraction. Gritting his teeth, he sprinted back towards the trade office where he left Storm Chaser, hoping to sweep the town again at a faster pace.

* * *

Tadashi had never been so startled in his life. 

It had been a long day of travel, and he had just settled into bed to get some much-needed rest when the door he apparently forgot to lock burst open. Some redhead ran in, slammed the door behind him, and went to open the bedroom window with a quick, “Excuse me, sorry!”

Tadashi yelped in surprise and couldn’t get any words out before the man whirled around to crouch at the side of the bed. 

“I’m sorry! Please don’t tell.” He begged before forcing himself underneath the bed frame.

Wh-what?

And then another man burst through his door, shocking his poor heart a second time. He didn’t know what to say! This guy was clearly chasing the other one, right? But he seemed to draw his own conclusions and, thankfully, left rather quickly. 

Leaving him alone with a strange man under his bed. 

After a few silent heartbeats, he leaned over the side of the bed frame and asked a tentative, “Hello?”

Said strange man poked his head out from his hiding place. “Whew,” he sighed, offering an apologetic smile. “Thanks for not saying anything. I owe you one.”

“R-right…” Tadashi blinked at the other man. He didn’t seem dangerous, at least. “Can you maybe leave now?”

“Yeah, I can do that.” Shouyou pulled himself up and stood, dusting specks of grime from his clothes. He moved to the window and carefully peeked outside, wincing back when the angry shouts of the other man from before echoed through town. 

“On second thought,” he said as he slowly closed the window and drew the curtains shut. “Can I stay here for a little while? Until my friend calms down?”

Tadashi narrowed his eyes. This wasn’t how his night was supposed to go. 

“That depends. Why is he chasing you?”

The man averted his gaze. “I, uh… beat him at poker?”

Tadashi arched a brow. “And?”

“And… I cheated.” He cast a guilty look down to his toes. “I just really wanted to win. Didn’t realize he’d get upset enough to try to shoot me over it.”

The dark-haired man regarded him for a long moment before releasing a heavy sigh. So he was _mostly_ harmless. This was probably going to be a mistake, but he was wide awake now. 

“Fine, as long as you agree to apologize and return whatever money you cheated him out of. I know guys like him are more reasonable after a chance to cool their head. You got a name?”

The man nodded vigorously. “I promise. My name’s Shouyou. Yours?”

“Tadashi,” he answered quietly, watching as Shouyou stepped toward the room’s door and clicked the lock shut.

“Nice to meet you, Tadashi.” Shouyou’s smile was nothing but friendly. “Thanks again.” 

With that, Shouyou strode toward the bed and seated himself on its edge. Tadashi shifted under the blankets. 

They ended up chatting for quite a while. He discussed his desire to interview miners up in the mountain for a local paper back in his eastern hometown—the reason for his travel. Shouyou listened attentively and asked enthusiastic questions about topics he didn’t know much about. For someone who quite literally barged into his evening, Tadashi found him equally exhausting and refreshing. 

After nearly an hour, Shouyou leaned back onto the mattress and sighed up at the ceiling. “I should probably leave soon,” he sighed sleepily, closing his eyes. “Really wish I could repay you for this.”

“Knowing you, any money you have is probably stolen,” Tadashi chuckled lightly.

He didn’t receive an answer.

Blinking, he peered at the man, watching as his chest softly rose and fell with slow, even breaths. 

Did… did he fall asleep?

Glancing around, Tadashi faltered, unsure of what to do. Wake him? But he looked so peaceful, and he himself was awfully tired. 

Sighing softly, the freckled man adjusted himself further under the blankets and leaned to rest his head on the pillow, careful to not disturb the sleeping redhead. Just for a little while, he reasoned, his eyes drifting closed.

  
  


When he woke early in the morning, only a handful of coins were left on the edge of the bed where Shouyou had slept.

* * *

Hot breath tickled Atsumu’s eyelashes as fuzzy lips nibbled at a stray lock of hair hanging against his forehead. Grunting, he squinted his eyes open to receive a face full of Storm Chaser, who snorted loudly in greeting, teeth clacking against the metal bit in his mouth.

“Hey,” he grumbled, pushing the horse’s muzzle to the side. Calloused fingers reached up to rub at his eyelids. Fuck, he must have dozed off for an hour or two. From his place on a bench outside the train station, he could hear people shuffling about with light beginning to pour in from the east.

Atsumu had spent the entire night outside patrolling Karston with a lantern in hand, bitterly searching for any sign of Shouyou. He had stopped by bars along the way to ask their patrons if they had seen him with no luck; people only remembered spotting the redhead wandering around earlier in the day. He even went back to check the lobby of the inn, only to storm back outside when he was told that, no, the thief had not made an extra appearance.

Shouyou had thoroughly duped him and gotten away. Somehow.

Atsumu wanted to kick something.

Wearily he rose from the bench and stepped to swing himself into his saddle, releasing a heavy sigh into the air.

“Come on, boy, let’s get somethin’ to eat ‘n keep lookin’.” With a click of his tongue, they set off.

When he returned to the main road, however, he noticed a group of individuals clustered around the entrance to one of the storefronts. Curious, he made his way over to see a red-faced man rambling to another guy with his arms crossed—the sheriff, judging from the badge pinned to his shirt.

Atsumu’s eyes widened.

No.

“-gone! The whole case!” The man practically shouted to the sheriff, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a handkerchief to wipe at his face. “Hat straps, brooches, a few chains—never to be seen again!”

“And yer sure they were stolen?” The sheriff asked, glancing into the homely shop.

“Positive. Everything was accounted for when I locked up last night,” the shopkeep responded, glowering. “And I’m sure I locked up. I always do! But the damn door was unlocked this morning! I’m the only one with a key. It was picked, I’m tellin’ you!”

Jesus fucking Christ.

 _How_?

“Shouyou,” Atsumu growled through his teeth, his mind reeling. When? Last night? He had been out searching the entire time! Could it have happened when he dozed off? But it had been so close to morning. Would the thief have taken that risk? His eyebrow twitched in irritation. Probably.

A couple heads in the crowd turned his way.

“You know Shouyou?” A young man with beige cropped hair inquired, tilting his head up at Atsumu, who blinked in return.

“Do you?”

“Yeah, he was keepin’ his horse at my family’s ranch outside of town. Paid us to take care of her for a bit until he left this morning. Nice guy.”

“He already left!?” Atsumu couldn’t believe his ears. That was impossible! He ran his fingers through his hair, knocking his hat back to hang off his neck by its strap. Fuck! Snapping his gaze back to the other man, he bared his teeth in anger. “That little shit isn’t a ‘nice guy’, he’s a thief!”

The guy blinked, brow furrowing in confusion. “I don’t think he-”

“Robbed my town’s bank,” Atsumu interrupted, clenching his hands into fists. “Took a bunch of my own shit. Stole fuck-knows what else! Probably made off with this guy’s shit, too!”

The man’s eyes widened. Standing in the group nearby, a vaguely familiar freckled man smacked his own forehead. What the hell? Whatever.

He had no time to lose.

Without giving further explanation, Atsumu tugged his reins to whirl Storm Chaser around to face the direction of Karston’s entrance.

“Which way did he go?” He asked without looking at the man, eyes set straight ahead.

“Um, south… I think.”

With a kick, the stallion shot forward, kicking up dust in its wake.

Atsumu shoved his exhaustion down as far as it would go, riding as hard as possible out of town. He should have known Shouyou was going to make his capture as difficult as possible, because as much as Atsumu hated to admit it, the thief was strikingly good at what he did.

A grin, ferocious and bitter against his cinched brows, cracked his visage.

Still, this time he wasn’t starting at square one.

He was gonna catch the little shit in no time.

As fate would have it, “no time” translated to “a grueling four months.” Because Fate, much like the moon, hated him.

That, and Shouyou was a slippery motherfucker.

Atsumu would always come close, so close, to getting the thief in handcuffs, but every goddamned time, Shouyou had some trick up his sleeve; some distraction to make; some near-impossible shot felling a wooden sign onto his pursuer’s head to take.

He would catch Shouyou in the act of pickpocketing an unsuspecting stranger or shoving his pockets full of coins from a lockbox behind a distracted gunsmith’s counter. He’d spot him riding in the distance and give chase, leading to more heart-throbbing dashes through plains, forests, and canyons, each time further and further testing the agility of their horses. He’d take a pit stop at some settlement or another to grab a bite to eat, only to find Shouyou already seated at a table in the middle of his own meal.

One time the opposite happened, and Shouyou backed out of the restaurant as if he never saw anything.

To this day, Atsumu wished he finished that steak.

Sometimes their chases lasted days; sometimes Atsumu lost the thief for weeks.

He learned a few things about Shouyou during his pursuit. For one, the man had infinite stamina. Atsumu always considered himself fit, but any chase on foot was sure to make his lungs feel like they were about to burst. It really did seem like the thief could run forever.

For another, Shouyou was ambidextrous and could shoot with whichever hand happened to be available, because of course he could.

He was always smiling; always laughing like he was having the time of his life. It was cathartic. Contagious. Aggravating.

He also never killed; never harmed a bystander; never pilfered goods from the needy. Atsumu found himself taking comfort in the fact that, irritating outlaw or not, Shouyou had a sense of humanity.

This became even more clear when Atsumu once spotted the thief slipping a thick envelope into the back of a delivery carriage headed eastward. Despite Atsumu’s desire to run after the man, his curiosity got the best of him, and when no one was looking, he fished the envelope out of its hiding place.

When a wad of cash, two necklaces, and a folded letter slid out of the package when he opened it, he had expected to discover who his fellow thieves were or whatever person he must have been paying a debt to or whoever lived at “The Hinata Residence” on the east coast, as addressed by the envelope, but as it turned out…

_Dear Mother & Natsu,_

_I hope you’re well! I’ve been missing you a lot lately, so I wanted to send you a surprise. The sapphire is for Mom, and the opal is for Natsu. Don’t worry, my job has been paying very well, and I’ve been saving! I hope the money helps again._

_I rode up a mountain last week and saw wild horses in the valley below. It was beautiful. You should come out here one of these days to see. It’s breathtaking! I’m hoping I can come back to visit sometime next year. Wait for me._

_How is the shop? Is Natsu married yet? (Mom, tell my sister she’s getting OLD!) Before you ask, no, I’m not married yet, either. Please don’t send me another lecture. Speaking of which, you can still send letters to the same address as last time._

_I got the scarf you knitted. It’s very pretty. Summer’s coming to an end, so I’ll be needing it soon. Please take care of yourselves. I’ll write again soon! I love you._

_Always Yours,_   
_Shouyou_

Atsumu had re-sealed the envelope with all its contents and returned it to the carriage.

Family or not, Shouyou needed to pay for his crimes, and Atsumu needed to be the one to put him behind bars. He was in far too deep to give up on that now.

He would never let an opportunity to get a leg up on the thief pass him by.

Well, except for one time, which Atsumu had tried and failed to force out of his memory: the barnhouse incident.

It had been another day of riding through the countryside. Rain from earlier in the morning left the ground muddied and littered with dirty pools of water that obnoxiously splashed up onto Atsumu’s boots when Storm Chaser ran into them. He was hot on Shouyou’s trail yet again, sure the man had traveled that way just recently.

A familiar glint of gold caught his attention, and he slowed his steed to a stop.

A narrow path diverted off the road toward a small cluster of structures and a few fields surrounded by wooden fences. In one of these open enclosures, a familiar palomino peacefully grazed with a group of other horses. The creature swished its platinum tail without a care, wandering about without a bridle or saddle.

Atsumu squinted. Dorada obviously wasn’t the only palomino in existence, but that horse bore such a striking resemblance to the mare, he simply had to check—quickly, so he didn’t lose too much time. He rode toward the settlement, one hand cautiously resting on the grip of his revolver.

Seeing no one around the house toward the front of the property, he rode onward to a large barnhouse behind the pasture, again taking a moment to stare at the horse, which looked even more like Dorada up close. It simply had to be her!

Upon reaching the barn, he swung a leg around to dismount his steed, fully unholstering his weapon as he walked toward the door resting slightly ajar on its railings. He poked his head inside to see rows of stalls lining the sides of the building, each littered with piles of hay and fitted with troughs of fresh water. A storage closet occupied the back wall, and upon a rack off to the side sat a saddle that was truly, undeniably Shouyou’s.

The thief was around here somewhere, and he didn’t even have his horse saddled for an escape! Perfect.

Now, where could he be?

Atsumu was in the process of turning around to resume his search outside when the shuffling sounds of movement deeper in the barnhouse froze him to the spot. What the hell? He hadn’t seen any living thing inside. Perhaps a cat? A few rats?

Eyes narrowing, he took a few steps deeper into the structure, listening attentively for any more noise with bated breath. He had almost decided to give up and leave until the guttural tone of a moan perforated tense silence, rooting him in place. Did he just hear…? Was that…?

It originated from the storage closet ahead.

Slowly he moved toward the back of the barn, gun aimed directly at the door in case someone jumped out for a surprise attack, but none came as he reached the back wall. Surely what he heard hadn’t been-

Another low moan resonated from the other side of the wall, its source sounding an awful lot like Shouyou. Atsumu felt a very much unwanted wave of heat rush downward through his system. Seriously? Hearing faint murmurs of spoken words, he leaned in closer, nearly pressing his ear against the wooden wall of the storage room.

 _“Your mouth feels incredible.”_ Breathy. Lustful.

It took a moment to process this. Shouyou, the smarmy little shit, had taken a pit stop to get his dick sucked as if he didn’t even care that Atsumu was right on his tail.

He couldn’t decide if he was more angry or jealous. It had been months since he had gotten laid because he had been so focused on catching the thief, who was supposed to have been focused on evading him! Clearly Atsumu wasn’t intimidating enough.

He sighed. Whatever woman Shouyou had with him was probably beautiful, too.

Pink dusting his cheeks, Atsumu grit his teeth. Fine. He’d show him! Besides, this was the perfect opportunity to make his arrest! After all, how vulnerable could a guy get? He could just bust down the door and catch him with his pants down! Again.

Then what? He’d arrest the thief with his cock out? Better yet, perhaps he could wait until they finished up. Shouyou would need a moment to collect himself, after all, and he probably wouldn’t be able to immediately take off at a sprint. Not that he’d even give him the opportunity to try.

The downright obscene sound of lips sliding over slick skin just feet away really didn’t help Atsumu’s decision-making process. He was getting hard just from hearing vulgarities on the other side of the barrier, and the more perverse side of his brain wanted to hear just a bit more.

 _“You look so good fingering yourself like that.”_ Shouyou’s voice was husky with arousal.

Oh, so they were really getting into it. Not to mention, it was incredibly unfair for the thief to sound so goddamn sexy. He probably pulled off stunts like this frequently. Atsumu adjusted himself through his trousers.

He took a moment to close his eyes and envision the scene unfolding in the next room: Shouyou with his head tilted back against the wall, neck exposed, lips slightly parted as he panted little blissful breaths with each deep suck of Atsumu’s mouth around his length.

Wait, no.

Atsumu’s eyes snapped open, his face burning as it proceeded to invent a new shade of red. That absolutely wasn’t what was happening in the storage closet. He had never sucked a dick, much less Shouyou’s!

Sure, maybe he found himself in another man’s bed once. It had been after a night of revelry; of little hints and featherlight touches he found himself drawn to; of hungry kisses he never wanted to end and delicious friction flavored so differently than he was accustomed to, he couldn’t help but chase it; of whispered promises to not tell a soul before they never saw each other again.

He would be lying if he claimed the memory didn’t resurface in his fantasies.

But this.

From behind the wall, he heard the messy pop of a mouth releasing its contents. A muffled sigh lost in a kiss. More shuffling, and then another throaty groan cut off by a sharply hitched breath.

Except the groan didn’t belong to Shouyou—it was deeper. It belonged to another man.

_“You’re so tight, Takano-”_

Atsumu didn’t hear any more. He couldn’t. Every piece of him burned with the growing discomfort between his legs as he rushed out of the barnhouse in such a wild array of emotions, he couldn’t determine exactly why he left. Maybe it was because eavesdropping made him a creep, or because he was getting so aroused he felt like he was going to explode, or because he unironically imagined himself sucking Shouyou’s dick.

Perhaps it was because he found the idea of Shouyou fucking another man so unbelievably erotic, he simply didn’t know what to do with himself.

He returned to his stallion and rode off the farm, opting to head across the road and conceal Storm Chaser and himself behind some bushes to await the thief’s departure.

There, he vigorously jerked himself off with spit and shame and anger, those hot, murmured phrases from his barnhouse encounter permeating his thoughts.

Fuck.

After a while, he watched as Shouyou finally emerged from the barn to saddle Dorada. He waved his goodbyes to a rather large man with stark-white hair (so that was his type?) before riding off down the dirt road. Atsumu waited a moment before tearing after him from his hiding place.

From then on, he simply pretended it didn’t happen. Unfortunately his stupid brain wouldn’t let him forget.

Indeed, the last four months had been challenging. Confusing. Thrilling. Filled with the pounding of hooves at breakneck speeds and the steady, concentrated exhale of breath before pulling a gun’s trigger and bronze-colored eyes alight with excitement always glancing backward.

Part of Atsumu almost didn’t want it to end.

Autumn made itself at home over the land, dappling hills in splotches of fiery colors and bringing chilled breezes whipping through open plains. The local fauna skittered about in their yearly frenzy to horde food for the cold months to come. Thick clouds of early morning mist drifted lazily through valleys sunken between mountains blanketed by evergreens.

The world was quiet, except for the rhythmic hammering of hooves against rock and dirt.

Atsumu had seen him first: Shouyou crouching at the edge of a stream to collect fresh water running off the mountain into his canteen. Dorada stood quite a ways off, grazing in a patch of greens that had not yet succumbed to the season.

The thief’s head shot up at the sound of an approaching horse, and he immediately bolted toward his own.

Shouyou was fast, but he couldn’t outrun a horse.

Lasso already swinging, Atsumu caught up to Shouyou just before he reached his mount and swung the rope outward, managing to close the line around a boot. Emitting a surprised yelp, Shouyou tripped forward at the sudden yank on his foot, forcefully smacking facedown into brittle grass and soil. Grunting, he scrambled to pull at the rope, spitting muck out of his mouth, but his pursuer left him no opportunity for escape.

For once, Atsumu was faster.

Atsumu hardly had time to slow his steed before leaping off the saddle to bodily tackle the other man, his heavy impact knocking the breath out of both of them and sending both their hats flying off into the field. He didn’t care. Victory was finally, finally within his grasp!

They struggled against one another, Atsumu pouring all of his strength into controlling Shouyou’s arms as he wriggled underneath him on his stomach, ferociously attempting to claw his way out of the other man’s hold.

“Just hold fuckin’ still for two goddamned seconds!” Atsumu growled as he fumbled for his handcuffs. This time! This time for sure!

 _Click!_ He managed to fit one of the iron bands snugly around a flailing wrist.

“No!” Shouyou began to writhe even harder beneath him, kicking and bucking and pushing with all his strength, but Atsumu continually shoved him back down into the dirt, working the man’s other arm closer… closer…

_Click!_

Without wasting a second, Atsumu jumped back and spun himself around to put his full weight on the back of Shouyou’s legs. He grabbed the rope already attached to a boot and proceeded to tightly wrap his ankles together, soon tying his work off with a secure knot.

Atsumu shifted off of him and flopped backward to sit on the ground, staring smugly at his prize through heavy, exhausted breaths.

He did it. He finally did it.

One cheek pressed to the earth, Shouyou fixed his captor in a defiant glower, his breath ragged. He gave his bindings an experimental tug and grimaced bitterly when they offered no give.

“Yer not gettin’ outta those anytime soon,” Atsumu laughed, feeling extraordinarily light. “Get used to ‘em.”

Having caught his breath, he pushed himself to a stand, taking a moment to dust off his pants.

“First thing’s first-” Atsumu bent down and removed a revolver from the gun belt around Shouyou’s waist. “-obviously you've lost yer shootin’ privileges.”

“Just wait ‘till I get them back,” the thief growled in return.

Bringing his fingers to his lips, Atsumu whistled for his stallion, who promptly lumbered over with pieces of grass dangling from his lips.

“Good boy,” he cooed as he tucked Shouyou’s gun away in a saddlebag. A new idea blooming in his head, he turned to flash the thief a wicked grin. “Alright, now it’s yer turn.”

Stepping over, he heaved Shouyou to his feet, huffing when the other man decided to be difficult by letting his body go limp in response. With a grunt, Atsumu all but dragged him over and carelessly flopped him onto Storm Chaser’s saddle. Shouyou gasped when his stomach hit hard leather, and he squirmed when his captor reached to tie him down with an extra length of rope.

“What are you doing? Put me on my own horse!” He complained, straining to look back at Atsumu, who snickered.

“Sorry, can’t trust ya with that.” Atsumu took a few steps back, eyes scanning the grass until he found the pair of hats knocked off earlier in their tussle. He reached for his own hat—his real hat, stolen all those months ago—and after brushing grime off the brown leather, he placed it on his head. It felt like a crown, hard-earned. His chest swelled with pride.

Grabbing the wide brim of Shouyou’s hat, he moved around his steed to shove it low onto the thief’s head, a mean smirk dancing on his lips. “‘Sides, I’m gonna ride that pretty palomino of yers all the way back to the closest town that can lock ya up.” Because he wanted to, and now he could. “Dorada, right?” He turned to address the horse standing a few yards away, her ears pricked forward curiously.

Shouyou snorted at that, rubbing the side of his head against Storm Chaser to push his hat further back off his forehead. “Yeah, good luck with that. She doesn’t let anyone but me ride her.”

That sounded like a challenge, and Atsumu wasn’t about to back down from the one good thing Shouyou brought into his life. He could feel Shouyou’s eyes on him while he slowly approached the mare with his hands raised.

“Hey, Dorada,” he spoke sweetly. “Hey girl.” Reaching the creature, he paused to let her sniff at his hand. She nibbled at his sleeve. Unable to restrain the broad grin taking over his features, Atsumu reached to stroke her muzzle, moving to run a hand down the side of her neck. “Look at ‘cha, so pretty.”

And she really was. Never in his life had he seen such a gorgeous palomino, and he expected he never would again.

After adjusting his coat, he moved around to her side, hooked his boot in a (yikes, much too short) stirrup, and lifted himself onto the saddle.

He waited.

Dorada mouthed at a patch of grass at her hooves, uncaring.

Shouyou gaped at them.

Storm Chaser took a shit.

Atsumu’s grin turned haughty. This was the best fucking day of his life! Nudging her sides, he led Dorada over to his stallion, who he quickly tied a lead to and secured it to Shouyou’s saddle.

“What did you do to my horse?” Shouyou asked, glaring.

“Nothin’,” he replied, smirk still tearing at his face. “Guess she recognizes raw talent.”

The thief huffed in indignation. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Rolling his eyes, Atsumu set the horses off at a slow walk. If he remembered correctly, the closest establishment was nearly two days’ ride away.

“Are you going to make me ride like this the whole way?” Shouyou complained with a whine. “You could’ve at least let me sit. This is really uncomfortable.”

Atsumu nearly got whiplash from whirling around so fast.

“Oh, you’re uncomfortable?” He sneered loudly, hardly able to believe his ears. “Ya know what else is uncomfortable? Riding naked in the middle of summer!”

Shouyou winced at that because, yeah, okay.

“I’ll show you uncomfortable,” Atsumu muttered, urging the horses to a trot. The resulting coughs and _oofs_ with each jarring step of their mounts was music to his ears.

Night fell, bringing chilly temperatures with it. Only a thin sliver of moon hung in the sky alongside twinkling stars, providing very little light to the wilderness below. A wolf howled in the distance.

Atsumu scrunched his brows in thought. He really would have preferred to get to town as soon as possible, but with no light, tired horses, and cold getting colder, making camp for the night really was the best choice. A warm fire sounded heavenly. After scouting out a decent clearing, he brought their mounts to a halt.

“Are we stopping?” Shouyou asked, lifting his head. “If we are, I’ll do anything to get off this horse. My ribs are killing me!”

“Good.” Atsumu dismounted Dorada and reached to loosen the rope securing his thief to the saddle. “Help me collect firewood, and maybe I’ll let ya sleep by the fire.”

Shouyou slid off the saddle and landed on wobbly legs, nearly stumbling backwards with his restricted movement. “And how am I supposed to do that?”

Atsumu shrugged as he lit a lantern. “I dunno, use yer mouth.”

He wandered around the area to pick up sticks and bits of dried brush to use as kindling, staying close enough to the clearing to keep an eye on his prisoner. Soon enough, he had a decent fire crackling in the middle of the campsite, sending little embers floating up into the night sky.

Shouyou, seated on the ground in front of the fire, kicked in a tiny twig as his contribution.

Atsumu busied himself with pulling a small tin pan and a jar of beans from one of his saddlebags, placing these with a bit of water on the fire to cook. He seated himself away from the outlaw, waiting for his meal.

“So...” Shouyou stared at the pan, a low growl rumbling in his stomach. “Is that just for you, or…?”

“What makes ya think ya deserve to be fed?” Atsumu glowered at the beans, willing them to soften faster.

“Because I don’t think you’re quite heartless enough to let me starve.” Shouyou gave his head a tilt, a slow smile spreading across his lips. “And because I have some dried pork and leftover bread on Dorada that would go really well with your beans, there.”

That snapped Atsumu’s gaze to Shouyou before he flicked it to the palomino standing nearby.

“Bet that shit is stolen.” He stood up anyway and went to rifle through Dorada’s saddlebags, whistling when he indeed found a wrapped slab of dried meat, half a loaf of bread, and some salt. Fuck yeah.

“Honestly, I don’t remember,” Shouyou sighed, rolling a kink out of one of his shoulders, grimacing with the iron cuffs grating on his wrists. “Just let me eat something, okay? I’m starving.”

“Maybe I will if yer good.” Atsumu proceeded to rip off bite-sized chunks of jerky and add them to the beans, followed by a few pinches of salt. There. The enticing smell of meat flavoring the simmering beans made his mouth water, so he bit off a chunk of bread. Look at him cooking all fancy—Osamu would be jealous! (He wouldn’t).

He opened his mouth to say something nice to Shouyou—because maybe he deserved an itty bitty compliment for improving his dinner—when the brief sound of metal scraping against metal cut him off. What the hell?

Shouyou immediately began coughing, forcing air out of his lungs with such vigor it was _almost_ convincing.

“Whew,” the thief wheezed, clearing his throat. “It’s pretty dusty out here.”

Atsumu glared. Shouyou held his gaze with just a hint of something wavering beneath his calm exterior.

Atsumu set down the bread.

“Atsumu?”

He stood.

“Atsumu, wait-”

He stepped around the fire to close the distance between them.

“Let’s talk about this.”

Atsumu grabbed Shouyou by the arm and yanked him forward, revealing a thin piece of metal sticking out of one of the cuff’s locks. Unbelievable. He couldn’t let his guard down around this guy for even a second!

“You little shit!” He exclaimed, once again forcing the thief onto his stomach and planting a heavy knee on his back. Shouyou groaned, not even bothering to resist.

“Damn,” he mumbled into the ground, “I just needed a few more seconds.”

With a scowl, Atsumu pulled the lockpick out of the cuff and double-checked to ensure its sturdiness. Pocketing the pick, he rattled the second binding, just to be sure.

“Can’t trust ya for shit. Ya hidin’ anything else I should know about?” Without waiting for an answer, he ran his hands down the back of the thief’s shirt and sleeves, feeling nothing but the firm dips and curves of corded muscle.

“I’m not, I swear!” Atsumu ignored this, already deciding a full-body search was in order. His fingers moved to the back pockets of his trousers, from which he pulled a few (likely pilfered) bills. And, okay, maybe he checked that area a little more thoroughly than necessary, but there was simply no taking any chances with this guy!

After feeling down each pant leg, he began working off one of Shouyou’s boots. Shouyou glanced back at him. “Isn’t that a little unnecessary?”

The boot popped off, and ten more lock picks fell to the dirt. Atsumu stared. “No.”

Shouyou thunked his forehead onto the ground.

After working off the other shoe, the Master Investigator found a gold ring, more lockpicks, and a pocket knife with the profile of a fox carved into its side. Wait a fucking second! He immediately shoved a hand in his own coat pocket to produce a matching one.

“This is ‘Samu’s!” He seriously had this thing for, what, four months?

“Huh. Wonder how that got there?” Shouyou didn’t even bother looking up.

Growling, Atsumu flipped the other man onto his back. He found coins, extra bullets, and a few silver chains in his front pockets.

“Listen,” Shouyou sighed as hands prodded him all over. “Why don’t you just, I don’t know, take all my clothes and make me ride back naked? We’ll call it even.”

“Not a chance.” Atsumu searched up and down the man’s torso, only coming up with a small folded piece of paper from his breast pocket. He held it up between two fingers. “What’s this?”

He didn’t miss Shouyou’s eyes widening slightly. “That’s nothing.”

“Uh-huh.”

Atsumu unfolded the paper, squinting at its contents in the firelight. It was some sort of long note, and it was all in Spanish. The paper itself was badly worn, the ink fading in some places. He only recognized a few common words and “Dorada” repeated a few times throughout the page.

“What does this say?” He asked, wracking his brain for the meaning behind a few phrases he was sure he had heard before but coming up with nothing.

“It’s just a shopping list.”

“Do ya think I’m stupid?”

“No, pero eres analfabeto.” The words might as well have fallen on deaf ears.

Fucker. Clicking his tongue, Atsumu folded the page and placed it in his own breast pocket. Whatever. He’d just find someone to translate it—not that it mattered, since he was about to turn Shouyou in, anyway. He gathered up the array of items collected from his prisoner and moved to stow them away on his horse. Shouyou pouted after him, shuffling to right himself into a comfortable sitting position.

The beans finished cooking, and Atsumu ate all but a few bites—the rest he left for Shouyou, who had to bend down and lap them up like some sort of dog without the use of his hands. That part made Atsumu feel better, at least, though he had to will himself not to look toward the end. Something about seeing Shouyou’s pink tongue dart out to lick the last drippings of flavorful bean juice from a pan _did_ something to him.

Soon enough Atsumu found himself lounging on his thin bedroll, propped up on an elbow as he took a swig of whiskey from his flask. Shouyou laid on his own bedroll across from him—because Atsumu was nice enough to let him use it—his expression set in a harsh pout. An additional length of rope constricted his upper arms and torso, as well as another wrapped tightly around his thighs.

“I’m not going to be able to sleep like this,” Shouyou huffed, wriggling against his restraints. “This is really unnecessary.”

Atsumu simply shrugged, took another drink, and slid his flask back into his coat pocket. “Don’t care. Knowing ya, you’ll try to run off again the second I shut my eyes.”

“You don’t know me.” Shouyou averted his gaze to glare at the crackling fire. “Not at all.”

“I know yer a thief and a liar and one to take advantage of people the second they start to trust ya,” Atsumu put, peering at the other man. “Ya take care of yer horse, at least. Decent shot. Annoying as hell.” Shouyou snorted at that, but he listened quietly.

“Ya steal way more shit than ya need, but ya send some of it to yer ma and sister back east,” Atsumu added, blinking when his prisoner’s head shot up.

“You… how did you…” Shouyou’s expression shifted from one of confusion to one of dismay. “You took my package, didn’t you? My letter? You-”

“Relax,” Atsumu interrupted, directing his attention to the snoozing horses at the edge of camp. “I put it back. Yer family shit’s none of my business, anyway.” He pursed his lips, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “‘Sides, I didn’t know which money you put in there. Could’a been hard-earned.”

Something in the fire popped, shifting the pile of burning sticks and sending a wave of embers drifting up into the air. A small smile pulled at Shouyou’s lips.

“Huh. So he has a heart, after all. I’ve been so wrong about you.”

“Sh-shaddap. If ya think I’m an asshole because I’m tryin’ to stop ya from stealin’ shit from people, I think ya need to re-evaluate yerself a little.”

Shouyou giggled at that. “No, it was more because Osamu immediately assumed I was looking for you because you ‘slept with my wife,’ or something of that nature.”

Atsumu’s ears turned bright red. “That was one time!” He cried, slapping a hand over his face. “I didn’t know! She didn’t tell me! Fuckin’ Christ, ‘Samu just won’t let it go. I’mma kill ‘im next time I see ‘im.” Groaning, he dropped down to lie on his back and scowl up at the stars overhead, pointedly ignoring the other man’s laughter.

“I figured you couldn’t be all bad,” Shouyou added, rolling onto his side to observe his captor. “You take good care of Storm Chaser. Ride him well, too.”

Atsumu felt something stir in his chest at the praise. He cleared his throat.

“Yer not so bad yerself,” he responded quietly, eyes still fixed upward. “Dorada’s a good horse. Ya named her well. Means ‘gold,’ right? ‘S pretty.”

“‘Golden’, yeah.” Shouyou turned his gaze to the sleeping mare, his eyes soft with fondness. “It really is pretty, though I’m not the one who named her.”

The fire sputtered again.

Silence fell between the men as the gentle lull of sleep soon overcame them.

The cold press of metal against Atsumu’s cheek jolted him awake.

The world was painted in fuzzy pre-dawn grays and blues, every surface flecked with cool beads of dew. The campfire had long completed its lifecycle and sat as nothing more than a pile of ash and blackened husks of wood in the middle of the campsite. Birds had yet to start chirping their morning songs to greet the sun.

All Atsumu could hear was the sound of his own heartbeat. A heavy boot rested against his chest and constricted his breathing; the threatening barrel of a rather large gun loomed much too close to his face.

He opened his mouth to shout at Shouyou, who obviously must have escaped his bindings, but when he peered up at the figure looming over him, his words caught in his throat. The man standing over him was not his thief; he was taller, broader. The brim of his hat rested low over dark hair, nearly concealing sharp, intense eyes holding a gaze that felt as if it was boring right into Atsumu’s skull.

Atsumu slowly showed his hands, lying trapped on his back. His eyes flicked to Shouyou, who still laid on his own bedroll, also staring down the barrel of a weapon pointed at his face by another man.

Shit. Were they being robbed?

“Wow,” a voice cut through the silence, accompanied by the jingle of spurs rattling with bootsteps. “Look, guys, he’s got ‘im all tied up nice and pretty for us!”

Atsumu squinted across the small clearing to see a shorter man nearly Shouyou’s size strolling onto the scene, sporting the whitest hair and weirdest eyes he had ever seen in his life. He casually twirled a revolver around his finger by its trigger guard.

“Maybe we should let him live, after all, as a token of our appreciation,” the man added, angling his head to address his companion standing over Atsumu. “What’cha think, Wakatoshi?”

The larger man, evidently Wakatoshi, regarded his hostage with a pensive hum, grip tightening around the shotgun in his hands. “I don’t like leaving witnesses.”

Atsumu paled, his eyes widening. “H-hey-” He started, but the gun pressing more firmly against his cheek cut off his protest.

“Yeah, probably for the best,” the shorter man relented, glancing at his other companion. “Let’s wrap this up, Tobio!”

Standing over Shouyou, the third man, Tobio, adjusted his grip on the rifle fixed on the thief.

“Been a while, Hinata.” A smug grin played on his lips. Shouyou’s eyes were locked with the man’s in an insolent glare.

“Kageyama.”

Atsumu frantically looked between all the men, utterly confused and trying not to panic.

What the hell had Shouyou gotten himself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for making it through my long chapters. I like to tell stories in hefty chunks.  
> The Alders have made an appearance! What could they possibly want with Shouyou?  
> Speaking of which, Hinata gets around. He definitely diddled Aone.  
> Atsumu is having a hard time. He deserves a vacation.
> 
> (If you saw the first version of this chapter, no you didn't.)
> 
> Hit me up on [twitter](https://twitter.com/Koocatoo) !


	3. Because of the Pretty Horse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has a [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/04uEZElNSzyrItDh2NLxUz) ! Feel free to listen as you read and drop song suggestions in the comments. 
> 
> While this chapter has its fair share of banter and thrills, a section also touches on the cruel reality of the wild world these characters live in. I'll be honest: it gets a little sad. You'll notice a change in tone and be able to glean what's going to happen. If that piece isn't something you're keen on reading, feel free to skip that subsequent cluster of paragraphs between breaks.

The violent clacking of the cocking shotgun looming just inches from Atsumu’s face turned his blood to ice, the sickening touch of Dread slithering its way through every corner of his system. His gaze flicked from the gaping maw of the gun’s menacing barrel to the sharp, cold eyes of Wakatoshi’s level stare as he laid restricted and defenseless on his back. He was going to be shot to death right on the cusp of victory after a punishing four-month-long chase around the countryside, wasn’t he? _Fuck that_.

“Listen,” he began slowly, pouring all his focus into keeping his voice from shaking with the weapon hovering before him. “I don’t know what that thief there did to ya fuckers, but it’s got nothin’ to do with me!”

Much to his surprise, Shouyou spoke up immediately as Tobio roughly jerked him to his feet by a shoulder, the redhead’s visage set in a harsh scowl while being manhandled.

“It’s true. He was just after me ‘cause I took his wallet back in town a few days ago,” Shouyou lied evenly, turning to regard Atsumu with a steady look holding something, some sort of plea, behind his eyes. Fear? Desperation?

No, a warning. 

_Don’t get involved_.

Despite this, Atsumu felt pretty fucking involved with his head just moments away from being blasted into pulp, but he had never once been locked in such an austere expression from the outlaw. Shouyou had always adorned himself with a smile; always flaunting his victories with exuberant laughter and delighting in his pursuer’s inability to put him behind bars. Even when Atsumu had him in cuffs, Shouyou still seemed to have an air of amusement about him, like he already had a foolproof escape plan in the works (which, at least last night, Atsumu had crushed).

But this? It articulated just how dangerous these men were. Atsumu didn’t know what kind of threat he was courting here, but he understood the thief’s message loud and clear. 

That, and he really didn’t feel like getting shot. 

“Yeah, s’right.” Atsumu nodded in agreement with Shouyou’s story. “Just wanted to get my shit back and then have ‘im locked up good ‘n proper. If yer after a bounty or somethin’ just take it. I don’t care as long as he’s not out stealin’ shit.” It wasn’t _entirely_ untrue, except for the fact that _he_ was supposed to be the one to do it. 

Atsumu really was getting robbed here.

Tobio stared him down for a long minute before clicking his tongue and turning away, looping fingers around the rope secured against Shouyou’s torso to drag him toward the horses, the thief hopping after him on clumsy, bound feet.

“Come on, let’s go,” the raven-haired man addressed his companions. “It’s not worth killing some goody two-shoes in the middle of nowhere. We have everything we need.”

Something about that nickname _really_ grated on Atsumu, but he watched, silent, as Wakatoshi slowly drew back his weapon and removed his heavy boot from the blonde’s chest. He couldn’t help his relieved sigh, but it hitched in his throat when the larger man bent down to tug the revolver out of the holster on Atsumu’s hip. 

“Hey!” He shouted in protest, but Wakatoshi simply brandished the weapon in the air and turned to walk toward the others, indifferent to Atsumu’s dissent. Probably to ensure Atsumu didn’t try anything.

Great.

As Atsumu sat up on his bedroll, the white-haired man addressed him. “You got a key for Carrot Top’s cuffs, there?”

In fact, Atsumu had tucked the handcuffs’ key securely into his boot, just in case Shouyou tried something stupid overnight, but after having both his thief and his gun taken, he was feeling excessively petty.

“Left saddlebag on my stallion,” he responded with only a hint of his ire, directing his gaze to his horse. “Can’t miss it.”

The man moved to Storm Chaser’s side and began shuffling through the bag in question, indeed finding a small iron key—one fitted to the lock on Atsumu’s door way back home, specifically. Atsumu was relieved to see him shove it in his pocket without inspecting it too thoroughly. 

“Speaking of which,” the man said, scrunching his brow as a new thought dawned on him, “Why the hell do you carry around cuffs, anyway? You a lawman or somethin’?”

As all eyes turned to him, Atsumu felt his heart drop to his stomach. While, no, “lawman” technically wasn’t a title he officially carried, he wasn’t sure these men would particularly care about that detail. He had a feeling he’d be shot on the spot if they gleaned his employment history. 

“I-” He managed a glower. “Do I look like a fuckin’ lawman?” A gamble.

At this, the white-haired man secured him in a pensive stare, eyes moving over his rugged, travel-worn clothes. “No, you really don’t,” he finally decided aloud. Atsumu shouldn’t have felt as offended as he did, but at least he didn’t have a bullet through his brain. “Besides, don’t think any respectable lawman would put weird shit in his hair like that,” the man continued, allowing a callous smirk to spread over his lips. 

Bristling, Atsumu scoffed loudly, his personal filter beginning to deteriorate. “Ya say that like ya didn’t smear ash or some shit ‘round yer eyes. Ya look like a fuckin’ pigeon.”

The smirk morphed into a snarl. “I don’t think you’re in any position to-”

“Kourai,” Tobio sighed from the other side of the campsite, “let’s _go_. It’s going to take days to get back.” 

Kourai threw Atsumu a hostile glare before stomping toward the trio of horses flanking Dorada and Storm Chaser, muttering incomprehensibly under his breath as he hoisted himself up onto the saddle of his stallion. Wakatoshi, keeping a wary eye on Shouyou, moved to mount his own horse. 

Meanwhile, Tobio approached Dorada, tentatively extending a hand toward her muzzle and jerking back abruptly when she reared her head with a loud whinny, hooves stomping the dirt in displeasure. 

Shouyou snorted. “She still hates you and your scary face.”

“Shut up,” Tobio growled as he yanked his prisoner around to the side of the palomino, who shifted uncomfortably while he secured Shouyou to her saddle. “You’re wanted alive _or dead_ , so I’d keep your mouth shut, if I were you.”

A wave of genuine hurt passed over Shouyou’s features, and he fell silent, brow creased as he stared at the ground in… confusion? Anger? Sorrow? Atsumu couldn’t tell. After taking a moment to remove a rifle and a few other items he considered unfit for Shouyou’s use from the mare’s saddle, Tobio attached a lead to her bridle and seated himself atop his own horse, quickly setting him forward with a kick of his spurs.

“So you know,” Kourai sneered to Atsumu as the group began their exodus, “I’m lettin’ you live only because you gave us Shou here all nice ‘n easy, but I’m shootin’ you right between the eyes if I ever see you again, ‘kay?” With that, he produced a goading smile and flipped his hand in a cheeky wave.

Atsumu’s eyebrow twitched. “Just you try,” he muttered under his breath. Oh, if he were a lesser man…

It was then that Shouyou found his gaze, the honey-flecked browns of his irises staring at Atsumu while each hoofbeat drew him further and further away toward wherever his new captors intended to take him. The thief’s look lingered, ruminative, for a long moment before his lips pulled into his signature grin, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’ll see you around, then!” he called, craning his neck over the swish of Dorada’s tail. “It’s been fun!” When he turned his head back around, however, Atsumu could tell the smile disappeared as quickly as it came.

Atsumu snorted at this. “Yeah,” he said quietly, mostly to himself. “Fun.”

Still seated, he watched as the group departed through morning light slowly brightening with the sun’s approach, the world finally stirring from its slumber. They gradually shrunk to dark blots of movement headed toward the distant misty mountains, leaving Atsumu alone with his horse and his thoughts.

It really had been fun, hadn’t it? Riding hard through open, untamed land, fueled by the thrill of the chase; the thrumming of hoofbeats; the lust for triumph over the quirk of a smile that had been taunting him, teasing him, _propelling_ him onward to keep up the pursuit like they both had nothing to lose. Like they both wanted to keep up the escapade indefinitely.

He shifted himself to the side to meticulously begin gathering up his bedroll. 

But of course that couldn’t be the case. Atsumu swore to hell and back that he’d put Shouyou behind bars and claim his victory, and he intended to see that through to the end. Despite the liberating sense of freedom he felt out here, the thief was still a menace to society—one who very personally slighted him, at that. It didn’t matter if Shouyou, even amid his crimes, held a sense of honor unbefitting his chosen profession. It didn’t matter if seeing his astounding prowess while riding the most gorgeous horse known to man made Atsumu’s spine tingle with giddy delight. And it _certainly_ didn’t matter if Shouyou and his muscled physique pervaded his midnight fantasies in some sort of attempt to steal the last few remnants of his dignity like the intrusive burglar he was.

It didn’t matter how much trouble the thief found himself in—a lot, if his shift in demeanor told Atsumu anything.

No, no matter the circumstances, Shouyou was his to subdue, and he had just been cheated out of that grand finale he’d worked so hard toward by a bunch of random assholes who got lucky enough to catch them off-guard.

The smart thing to do, his common sense sounding suspiciously like Shinsuke Kita told him, would be to return home, take pride in the fact that he _did_ manage to capture Shouyou, and rest easy knowing that that thief would be dealt with in whatever manner he earned for himself. But Atsumu had never considered himself to be the smartest of men, especially when recently affronted.

Plus, that option simply wasn’t satisfying.

Atsumu barked a laugh at that, not out of amusement—he was beyond pissed the more he thought about it—but because he knew himself all too well. Despite having just avoided being killed by men evidently treacherous enough to hardly give it a second thought, he was fully aware he was about to make an incredibly, irreparably stupid decision.

Having packed his things, he mounted his stallion, jaw set as he stared out in the direction the other men left, his choice made.

He was going to get his fucking thief back.

  
  


Tailing the group of men proved to be relatively straightforward; staying out of their line of sight, not so much. Hoping to not draw attention to himself, Atsumu kept his distance, using both hoof prints in the dirt and their vague moving specks on the edge of his vision as a guide. Out in the plains, one could see for miles during the day, but luckily for Atsumu, his targets eventually headed up into the forested slopes of the mountains. 

Concealed by towering pines and large, jutting rock faces, Atsumu shortened his distance between him and Shouyou’s captors to risk a closer watch on their whereabouts, close enough to make out the shimmering gold of Dorada’s coat and the varying browns of the other horses. Wherever they were headed, they weren’t in a hurry and maintained a steady pace. 

The sun passed through its cycle in the sky, offering a brief amount of comfortable warmth before the sharp cold of the evening, honed by approaching winter’s biting edge, descended upon him. Drawing himself closer into his thick leather coat, Atsumu continued his pursuit. The men—bounty hunters, he guessed at this point—traveled well into the night before finally stopping to make camp. Atsumu backtracked a ways the moment he saw they halted their trek for the day, breathing a sigh of relief, then one of dismay upon the realization that he wasn’t going to be able to make a campfire of his own, at least not nearby, lest he be discovered. Shit.

In that case, he would simply have to make this quick. Sneak in, grab Shouyou while they’re sleeping, and bolt. Easy, right?

Leaving Storm Chaser secured down the path from the campsite, Atsumu carefully stalked his way forward, keeping to the trees until he spotted the faint flicker of firelight ahead. Crouching low, he made his way as close as he dared, peering through branches and underbrush at the scene ahead. 

Shouyou, he noted first, was still in his bindings, secured sitting upright by an extra length of rope to the trunk of a tree on the edge of a small clearing, idly observing the three other men moving around the area. 

“I’ll take the first watch,” Wakatoshi stated as he stoked the fire, sharp eyes focused on the flames.

“Thank Christ, I’m exhausted,” Kourai drawled from his spot, outstretched on a bedroll. “Wake me up if I need to shoot anybody.” With that, he shoved his brimmed hat over his face and leaned back against his arms folded under his head. 

Atsumu silently cursed to himself. No, this wasn’t going to be easy. Perhaps if only one of them kept watch, he could make some sort of distraction to draw their attention away, just long enough to get in there and cut Shouyou’s ropes. But _how?_ Maybe he could spook their horses and make them run off somewhere, but that would likely wake them all up. Damn it, what could he do to pull this off?

After shoving a piece of jerky in his mouth, Tobio brushed his hands against his pants and stood from the log he shared with Wakatoshi. “Gonna take a piss,” he stated before turning to disappear into the trees on the far side of camp. 

Atsumu squinted at this, his mind reeling. He had a better chance against only two of them, but with no weapons against one _very_ intimidating man with a large shotgun and the smaller guy who seemed awfully trigger-happy, his prospects were looking grim. At this point, his only option was to wait it out and hope that, sometime during the night, all three of them would drift to sleep. He bit the inside of his cheek, glowering at the ground as he plotted his next move.

Unfortunately it was becoming commonplace for Atsumu’s decisions to be made _for_ him, and not long after, much to his displeasure (or rather, blood-chilling dread), did he hear the _click_ of a gun cocking right behind his head. 

“Show your hands,” Tobio demanded evenly.

Breath hitched in his throat, Atsumu did as he was told, angling his face to look back just enough to see the other man staring coldly, a small Derringer pistol pointed directly at the back of his head. Fuck. _Fuck_.

“Walk.”

Atsumu walked, repeating a flurry of curses in his mind as he was led directly into the campsite.

“Look who I found,” Tobio declared when they came into view, giving Atsumu a forceful shove forward to push him to his knees. Wakatoshi narrowed his gaze, Kourai flicked his hat upward to see, and Shouyou fixed Atsumu in a wide-eyed, horrified stare.

“Ohoho!” Ecstatic, Kourai leapt to his feet, immediately reaching for the revolver on his hip. “It really is my lucky day! Remember what I told you earlier, Pretty Boy?”

Fuck. Shit. Godfuckingdamnit.

Atsumu glowered at the white-haired man, trying to think of something, _anything_ that could get him out of this. “I, uh-” He cleared his throat, eyes darting between all the men. “Was just passin’ through?” When he was met with a cluster of unamused stares, he sighed. “Yeah. Looks like ya caught me.”

“Fuckin’ knew you were spoutin’ some bullshit back there,” Kourai chimed as he moved to step in front of Atsumu, lording over him with a haughty smirk. “Should’ve run while you had the chance!” 

In his peripheral, Atsumu could see Shouyou scowling at the ground, clearly trying to think of something to say. Fuck. His only chance, and he fucked it up. What could he do? What were his options? What could he-

“I’m Shouyou’s partner,” Atsumu blurted, the tattered fragments of a new idea forming as brown eyes nervously followed the trail of the revolver Kourai flicked in the air. This could either get him killed faster or buy him a little time. “Pulled a few heists together. Had to try ‘n save his ass.”

“What?” The question came from both Kourai and a bewildered Shouyou. All eyes turned to the bound redhead, who sputtered under everyone’s sudden attention. 

“Y-you shouldn’t have told them!” The thief settled his anxious gaze on Atsumu, the look in his eye questioning. 

“Horseshit,” Kourai huffed. “You had ‘im tied up.”

“He… the little shit threatened to take my share!”

“That doesn’t matter,” Tobio said, glancing between the men. “We’re only after Hinata. Let’s just get rid of him this time.”

“True. ‘Fraid there’s no merit in keepin’ this asshole around, anyway.” Sporting a vicious grin, Kourai aimed his revolver between Atsumu’s eyes.

“Wait-” The cocking of the gun cut him off. 

“Sorry, but I don’t really give a fuck.”

Atsumu could feel his heart pounding wildly in his throat when Shouyou spoke up again. “You won’t get his bounty if you do that.”

Kourai’s finger twitched against the gun’s trigger, and he slowly turned to squint at the thief. “What bounty?”

“His name’s Buster.” Shouyou lifted his chin, sounding more confident in his new lie. “Got a grand on his head, but only if he’s alive.”

“Y-yeah.” Atsumu furrowed his brow. _Buster?_ Really? Not that he had any room to complain since, once again, Shouyou was trying to keep him from getting shot in the face. And, now that he was practically seeing little dollar signs shining in Kourai’s eyes, it looked like it just might work.

“That sounds like a load of shit,” the white-haired man stated, though he was clearly wavering as he glanced at his companions. Tobio shrugged, while Wakatoshi tapped his chin with a thoughtful hum. 

“If he does run with Shouyou, it wouldn’t be surprising,” he mused aloud, casting his gaze between the men in question. “I don’t care either way. He isn’t our target.”

Kourai pursed his lips in contemplation for a few heartbeats while Atsumu waited for his fate to be decided, completely on edge. Finally, the grin returned to the smaller man’s lips. “Tell you what: I’ll take you to the nearest town to turn you in, and if I find out you’re _lyin’_ to me-” He leaned in close, dropping his voice to a threatening growl. “-I’m gonna make you both _hurt_ before I put a bullet through your brains. Got it?”

Satisfied with his declaration, Kourai motioned for Wakatoshi to join him as he yanked Atsumu by the collar toward a tree just a few feet away from Shouyou. Atsumu grunted with his rough handling but didn’t struggle as the two men tightly secured him to the trunk with a long length of rope. 

Tobio arched a brow at this, folding his arms over his chest. “You sure about this?”

After surveying their work with a satisfied smirk, Kourai turned to saunter back toward his bedroll, bringing his hands up to rub his thumbs over his index and middle fingers. “A grand’s a lotta money, Tobio. Gotta take up an opportunity like this. ‘Sides,” he glanced toward his prisoners, “If these assholes are pulling my leg, I’ll just have _extra_ fun with them later.”

Tobio looked skeptical, but he stepped to return to his seat by the fire, Wakatoshi following suit. 

After giving his new restraints an experimental tug, Atsumu flicked an awkward glance to Shouyou. “Uh. Hey.”

“What the _hell_ are you doing?” Came a hissed whisper, the thief glaring across the small space between them. “You should’ve taken the hint and _left_.”

“I’m rescuin’ yer sorry ass on account of the fact that I caught ya first,'' Atsumu scoffed, keeping his voice low. “I ain’t lettin’ anyone else put ya away. So. Yer welcome.”

“Oh, right, and you’re doing a _great_ job, thanks,” Shouyou replied sarcastically, squinting his eyes shut as he thunked the back of his head against the tree. “If it makes you feel any better, these guys have been after me for longer.” An exasperated sigh left his lips. “And they’ll likely be after you next, if we get out of this.”

Atsumu scowled at this, shifting against his bindings to get a better look at Shouyou. “Yeah? Who are these guys, anyway?”

“Does the name _Ukai_ mean anything to you?”

Ukai. The name trapped Atsumu’s next words in his throat. Sure, he had heard of it before; nowadays there were few who hadn’t. Titled after their leader, it belonged to a gang infamous for their brutality and corrupt influence across the more prominent settlements in the West—they were the type of people to take whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted, without concern for consequences. Rumor had it they had all sorts of lawmen across the country in their pocket, and if one heard the name in passing, it would be in their best interest to turn a blind eye. Their leader, a particularly vicious man, apparently had a tendency to make people he didn’t see eye-to-eye with _disappear_.

“Are ya fuckin’ serious?” Atsumu gasped, his eyes blown wide. “Yer involved with them?” Shinsuke’s warning suddenly resurfaced in his mind. Fuck, the sheriff had been right all along. Imagine if he inadvertently drew Ukai’s men to their peaceful town!

“You could say that,” Shouyou sighed, his shoulders drooping a little at the sentiment. “I’m not on their good side, at least. Clearly.”

“Fuck.” Atsumu grit his teeth and gave the ropes another tug. No give. “We’ve gotta get out of here.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve made that part exceedingly difficult. Really could’ve used all those picks you stole from me,” the thief muttered. 

“Oh, don’t even _try_ to blame this on me!”

“I wouldn’t have been caught in the first place if it weren’t for you!”

“I wouldn’t have needed to catch ya if ya didn’t _fuck me over!_ ”

“Hey!” Tobio’s harsh shout rang across the clearing, startling the two to silence. “Stop talking.” After fixing the men in a level glower, he returned his attention to the rifle he was cleaning in his lap. 

After a few quiet moments, Atsumu murmured softly, “I’ve got the key.”

Shouyou didn’t respond, simply settling his tawny stare upon Atsumu before giving a single curt nod. 

  
  


The night progressed. Wakatoshi kept a sharp eye on Atsumu and Shouyou for the first few hours before Tobio took over, the raven-haired man soon leaning against a log facing the prisoners, his rifle laid threateningly across his lap with his hat dipped just low enough to shield his eyes from their line of sight. 

Atsumu, too far away from the campfire and shivering against the night’s bitter cold, found himself dozing in and out of consciousness, occasionally jolting awake to peer at whoever was on watch to check if they had fallen asleep. Wakatoshi always met his gaze, and because he simply couldn’t see Tobio’s, he had no way of knowing.

It wasn’t until just before the world began its transition back to daytime that a quiet _pssst_ permeating the silence drew Atsumu’s attention Shouyou’s way. 

“He’s out,” the thief whispered, jerking his head in Tobio’s direction. 

Atsumu blinked at their captor, who looked the exact same as he always had during his watch while the other two men snored lightly in their bedrolls. “How can ya tell?”

“He gets twitchy in his sleep.”

Squinting, Atsumu watched as, after a moment, Tobio’s shoulder gave a subtle jolt. “Okay. How the _fuck_ did ya know-”

“Look, if you’ve got some brilliant plan to get us out of here, _now_ is the time to get that going,” Shouyou huffed, eyes darting between Atsumu and their captors. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

Fine. Atsumu adjusted his sitting position to lift a leg in the air, vigorously shaking a foot in an attempt to dislodge the key stashed in his boot. He didn’t have a grand scheme of any kind, but what he _did_ have was confidence in Shouyou’s abilities.

When the handcuffs’ key finally plopped onto the earth, Atsumu began toeing at it with his boot tips, tongue peeking out the corner of his mouth in concentration. After finagling the sliver of metal onto the top of his boot, he looked over at the thief and lifted his eyebrows. _Be ready to catch._ Mentally calculating the trajectory, Atsumu flung his foot outward to send the key Shouyou’s way in a perfect arc, unable to contain his satisfied smirk when the redhead, keeping his eyes focused on the object even in the dark, craned his neck forward to catch it between his teeth. 

Shouyou immediately got to work, leaning to spit the key down behind his back and catch it in his hand. Atsumu watched as he fidgeted, working the key into its fitting until— _snikt… snikt_ —the locking mechanisms on the handcuffs were released. The two men waited, watching Tobio with bated breath, and when he didn’t move, Shouyou wrenched his arms forward. Deft hands worked at the tight knots of his restraints, loosening the ropes around his torso, thighs, and ankles, until he finally pulled away from the tree in a low crouch, rubbing at his wrists. Silently he crept over to Atsumu’s side, keeping an eye on their captors all the while. 

“I could leave you here,” he whispered, eyes flicking to his adversary. “It’d be easy.”

“Yeah, but yer not gonna,” Atsumu responded confidently, his smile accompanied by a leer.

After a pause, Shouyou released a sigh and began to tug at the ropes, lips upturned in a small smile. “No, I’m not.”

With both men finally free, they moved stealthily around the edge of the campsite toward the horses, each step carefully placed to avoid breaking twigs or shifting pebbles. Upon reaching Dorada’s side, Shouyou gently took hold of her reins, turning to cock an eyebrow at Atsumu, who glanced off toward the trees where he left his own horse, the thief nodding in understanding. 

Atsumu pursed his lips, still keeping a wary eye on the sleeping men. Unfortunately it wasn’t easy to keep a horse silent; perhaps if Shouyou led her slowly enough-

The cracking of a stick snapping under one of the palomino’s hooves when she moved might as well have been a loud explosion of thunder echoing through the morning’s dark stillness. 

The men froze.

Tobio lifted his head. 

“ _Go!_ ” Shouyou shouted, yanking on Dorada’s reins to bring her around before jumping up into the saddle. 

Atsumu didn’t need to be told twice. As his thief took off, he turned on his heel and sprinted into the trees, darting between thick trunks and tall bushes in a frantic scramble to get to Storm Chaser. Behind him he heard shouting, gunshots, violent clambering in a frenzied haste to don weapons and mount horses. A bullet whizzed past his head and collided with a nearby pine, pieces of its bark bursting into shards with the impact. 

Adrenaline coursed through his body as he ran, cold air burning his lungs with each heavy breath, tree branches whipping at his face and tugging at his clothes. Almost there. Somewhere around here. He had tied his mount—there!

Spotting Storm Chaser through the trees, he doubled his pace in his mad dash to the stallion, hardly thinking anything of his massive leap up from the ground and into the saddle from behind. The horse whinnied in surprise when Atsumu roughly drew the reins to the side. 

“Come on, boy, we gotta go!” He shouted, digging his heels into the beast’s ribs to send him rocketing forward through the dim light. 

The horse and his rider careened through the woods, the threatening sounds of yelling and approaching hoofbeats driving them onward, until they returned to the worn path snaking up the mountainside. Leaping over a patch of underbrush onto the trail, Atsumu yelped when the stallion nearly collided with Dorada, the mare emitting a startled squeak as she hopped to the side mid-stride. 

“Come on!” Shouyou glanced from Atsumu to the noise of their oncoming pursuers behind them, his horse barrelling forward.

Atsumu drove Storm Chaser into a gallop matching the thief’s pace, the pair racing off down the mountain’s rocky slope. The faintest bit of light began to filter in overhead, revealing a thick, overcast sky. He hoped the sun would hurry itself up and brighten the world a little more—riding through this kind of terrain without decent vision could be incredibly hazardous to their horses, but then again, it made them a little more difficult to spot. 

“You’re terrible at making escape plans,” Shouyou called from his side, tearing him from his thoughts. “We didn’t have time to grab our guns or anything!”

Atsumu opened his mouth to retort, because _as if_ this was his fucking fault, but when he glanced the thief’s way, he saw a familiar teasing smirk cracking the other man’s features. “Oh, whatever,” he scoffed, finding himself mimicking the thief’s expression. “Those yacks didn’t give us the opportunity!”

“Gee, now you know how I feel.”

The banging of a few more gunshots echoed behind him, the pounding of hooves growing louder and louder. A bullet darted through the trees and flew so close to Atsumu’s ear, he could’ve sworn he felt it graze his skin, causing him to lurch his head to the side with a loud curse. The duo rounded a corner, hooves kicking up dust and rocks as they carried onward, their bodies rocking in sync with their mounts’ rolling movements. 

Not seconds later, three more horses skidded around the bend, accompanied by enraged shouting.

“You motherfuckers!” Kourai bellowed, his revolver pointed forward. “Stop!”

“Don’t shoot the horse!” Tobio called to his companion with a rifle in one hand, teeth grit as he bitterly scowled at the retreating escapees. 

“Don’t tell me what to do. This is _your_ fault!”

“ _You’re_ the one who wanted to keep the other thief around!”

“Quiet,” Wakatoshi barked as he raised his shotgun, aiming with an intense, level stare.

Looking back, Atsumu’s eyes widened in fear. “Left!” He hollered as he wrenched the reins sideways to veer to the left off the path, Shouyou following suit. Just as they passed a large boulder into the trees, a chunk of the rock exploded with the shotgun’s blast in a burst of dust and sharp fragments. 

This was nothing like his chases with Shouyou, Atsumu realized as he directed Storm Chaser down the perilous slope. Those had been invigorating, fun, _mostly_ free from worry of life-threatening injury. But these men? They were shooting to kill. Panic began to tear at his concentration. These Ukai guys or whatever were fast, skilled, following them off the road and matching their speed with ease. 

More bullets rained upon the runaways, striking bark and rock and dirt much too close for Atsumu’s comfort. Glancing at Shouyou, he could see the man’s face cinched with worry. No clear direction forward, no guns-

Wait. _One gun._

Remembering something, Atsumu leaned back to shove a hand in one of his saddlebags, pulling out the revolver he confiscated from Shouyou just the other day. Flicking the cylinder open, he cast a hopeful glance inside to see five bullets comfortably loaded in its slots.

Perfect.

Readying the next chamber and pulling the hammer back, Atsumu twisted himself around to aim at Wakatoshi, missing his shoulder just by a hair when he fired. Again he shot, this time cursing when the man jerked his horse to the side at the last second to throw off Atsumu’s aim. 

He turned to focus on steering his stallion, the beast leaping over large rocks and darting around bushes. The mountain’s slope steadily became flatter; the density of the forest thinned, providing less cover. 

Another gunshot collided with the top of Atsumu’s hat, sending it flying off in the wind. Crying out in surprise, he whirled around to see Kourai sporting a wicked grin while re-cocking his weapon. Frantically, Atsumu fired his gun back at the man, the shot going wide. Shit. He couldn’t keep wasting ammunition like this! The two shots he had left weren’t going to be enough, but he couldn’t get a clear shot while riding on such uneven terrain.

Atsumu stole a glance at Shouyou, and he blinked as a new idea surfaced in his mind. 

Well. Here goes nothing.

Removing his boots from the stirrups, Atsumu released a deep breath to focus on his balance, tongue sandwiched between his teeth as he concentrated on the rhythmic movements of Storm Chaser’s galloping. He turned, swinging one leg over his horse’s head and the other over his backside to settle himself in reverse on the saddle, adjusting the movement of his hips accordingly. Clamping his thighs tightly, he took a brief moment to accommodate the new feeling before raising his arms to aim directly at a wide-eyed Kourai, the revolver held steady by two hands. Locked on his target, Atsumu pulled the trigger.

With a spurt of blood spraying into the air, Kourai howled in pain as the bullet pierced his hand, knocking his weapon out of his grip. He fumbled, grimacing, when his horse leapt over a large rock in its path, unable to maintain his balance or his slippery, bloodied grip on the reins, and he tumbled down into the dirt. Wakatoshi and Tobio both twisted to call after their fallen companion, who quickly picked himself up amid a cloud of dust, battered and bruised, clutching his injured hand. He screamed something unintelligible after the other riders.

Hearing the white-haired man’s shout, Atsumu felt a victorious smile plaster itself across his visage. Hell yes!

Tilting his head to the side, he saw Shouyou watching him, an equally broad smile matching his own, his eyes shimmering with gleeful delight after watching Atsumu mimic his own move. Atsumu's chest swelled with pride.

Reality reasserted itself as Wakatoshi fired his shotgun, pieces of shrapnel whizzing dangerously close through the air, hindered by wind and the weapon’s short range. If he got any closer, they would be dead meat. Atsumu raised the revolver again, intending to solve this problem with his last shot, but Shouyou waved an arm in the air to get his attention. 

“Look forward!”

Atsumu looked. 

_Deja fucking vu._

Ahead of them a deep ravine cut through the rocky, mountainous landscape, a large stream bordered by steep, jagged walls trickling through its middle. A sharp hill loomed on the other side, leaving only enough room to ride along the edge of the aperture. The gap in the earth ahead was far, familiarly so, stretching a length requiring an impossible leap from an impossibly strong horse with an impossibly adept rider—at least, Atsumu may have once thought.

He again found Shouyou’s gaze, and the thief—the beautiful, dauntless, _insane_ man he was— _waggled his eyebrows_.

A shot from Tobio’s rifle pinged off the metal pan clanking from its hook on Storm Chaser’s saddle, but Atsumu didn’t care. He smirked.

They were doing this. 

Turning himself back around, Atsumu tugged at a few ropes and buckles securing some of his travel necessities to his saddle, letting them drop from the stallion to lighten his load a little. The horses were getting tired, their nostrils flaring with each sharp breath, but surely, _surely_ they had enough strength to clear the chasm. Storm Chaser had always been reliable; powerful; enduring. He had to make it. Atsumu had no reservations this time.

The duo urged their horses onward, shouting words of encouragement, moving faster and faster until they reached the edge of the drop, hooves pounding steadily against rock. 

Atsumu’s heart stilled, his breath caught, as the beasts leapt. 

They flew. 

Never in all his days had Atsumu felt such thrill; such lightness; such unparalleled elation than he did at the height of that jump, his hair whipping in the breeze, his face hurting from the severity of his smile, his thief gasping in jubilation on the golden horse just feet away.

The other side approached, and his glee became tinged with anxiety as he prepared for their landing. 

Storm Chaser’s hooves connected with the ground just shy of the lip of the ravine, and with a powerful kick, he propelled himself forward. Dorada, the monster of a mare she was, landed further ahead, touching down gracefully as if she hadn’t just defied the unrelenting pull of gravity.

God, he loved that horse.

Atsumu let out his breath, and Shouyou burst into delighted laughter as they continued forward, immediately steering their mounts to the left to ride along the side of the gulch. The look they exchanged could only be described as one of mutual, overjoyed respect, and Atsumu allowed himself to enjoy every second of it. 

_This_ was what he wanted. This exhilarating, boundless feeling of freedom on horseback, touched by the unrelenting shimmer of Shouyou’s smile; of his extraordinary skill and intense presence, thievery be damned. He wanted to somehow take hold of the moment and press it forever against his fluttering heart.

But the wretched workings of the world found it necessary to, once again, remind Atsumu that what he _wanted_ and what he _got_ never quite seemed to coincide. 

A gunshot echoed against the walls of the ravine, much closer than it should have been. 

The pained whinny Dorada cried when the bullet lodged itself in the meat of her flank leeched every last sliver of euphoria from Atsumu, leaving nothing but a cold, hollow feeling of dread. Dread and _rage_.

Shouyou released a dismayed shout, eyes wide with panic as the palomino’s gait staggered but kept going, her leg painted with streaks of crimson. They both looked back to see Tobio’s horse in the air, nearly completing the leap across the chasm. The man’s rifle smoked at the tip, his eyes widening with shock, mouth slightly agape at the realization of his error. 

Dorada hadn’t been his target.

They watched as Tobio’s horse landed on the other side, but its hooves slipped against a patch of gravel, sending them both skidding to the ground and against the side of the hill. 

The asshole could’ve died, for all Atsumu cared. 

On the other side, Wakatoshi had turned to mirror the escapees, galloping at their pace with his gun at the ready. Repeating every curse he knew in his head, Atsumu grimaced at the man, then at the wound in Dorada’s thigh, then at Shouyou’s worried expression. The palomino was still running, but that wasn’t going to last much longer without treating her injury. 

Fuck.

In perhaps the tiniest bit of remorse for its cruelty, the world provided a blessing: up ahead, the ravine forked into two divergent paths, providing a gap wider, further, certainly too large to jump even with an insanely capable mount. The pair followed their side of the gorge, leaving Wakatoshi to slow his horse to a stop at the split in the earth and scowl after them. 

They rode for a ways down the narrow path dotted with trees, skirting along the side of the winding ravine until the last of their pursuers were out of sight. Shouyou pulled his mare to a stop and immediately twisted to evaluate the damage, brow furrowed while he tried to formulate a plan. Dorada’s breath was ragged, and she leaned to take weight off her shaking, bloodied leg. 

“I have to get the bullet out and clean the wound,” Shouyou said, glancing from Atsumu to the direction the other men were sure to come barreling through any second now. “Dorada needs to rest. I’ll find somewhere to keep her hidden; you go on and lead them off.”

Atsumu scowled at this. “Hold on, I’m not lettin’ ya outta my sight. We’ll figure somethin’ else out!”

Shouyou whirled on him, eyes ablaze with anger, his horse shifting uncomfortably. “You’re going to do this _now_?”

“Well-” Atsumu faltered, his scowl deepening. In all fairness, Shouyou had a point, and his idea wasn’t exactly a bad one. It’s just… “I didn’t risk my ass just to let yers go!” Which was true; he still had his goal of arresting the thief. And also riding with him. And getting revenge for the stealing of his clothes. While also, perhaps, developing some sort of friendship around their common interests. And… and maybe Atsumu didn’t know exactly how to define what he wanted right this five seconds, but he _did_ know that he wasn’t about to let Shouyou just waltz away after everything they’d been through. 

Shouyou opened his mouth to retort, but the grinding sound of crumbling earth cut him short. Dorada had stepped back a little too close to the ledge, and loose soil cracked and dislodged itself beneath her weight, chunks of dirt and pebble tumbling down to the ravine below. Stumbling, she tried to regain her footing, but her injured leg buckled under stress it simply couldn’t handle. Shouyou wobbled in the saddle, struggling to stay balanced as the horse’s hind legs slipped over the edge, her hooves scrambling for purchase. 

“No! Up, girl, up!” He shouted in terror, trying to urge his steed forward, but hooves simply weren’t made for grabbing, slipping helplessly against the ground.

Crying out, Atsumu lurched Storm Chaser forward and reached an arm out, fingers just barely grabbing hold of Shouyou’s collar while he watched, horrified, as the palomino fell. His grip tightened around the fabric of the thief’s shirt, dragging him and over the lip of the drop. 

“Dorada!” Shouyou wailed, struggling to break free of Atsumu’s grasp. “No!”

Dorada’s frightened neigh echoed between the walls of the ravine, the mare’s hair whipping wildly as she flailed helplessly, striking jutting rocks and uneven earth as she tumbled violently downward, soon rolling over a protruding ledge and disappearing from sight. They heard a thud, the disturbance of water, then nothing. 

Atsumu stared down the gulch in utter dismay, every other emotion, every granule, withering into nothing. No. _No._

Shouyou began to writhe in his grip. “Let me go!” He cried, bringing his hands up to grab Atsumu’s wrist and try to wrench himself away. “I need… I need to go get her!” 

Atsumu struggled to maintain his hold, leading Storm Chaser further away from the ledge. He could hardly process what just happened—Dorada, the most beautiful, powerful horse he had ever laid eyes on, was gone in a matter of seconds. “Shouyou-”

“ _No_ !” The thief spat, twisting to throw a punch at Atsumu’s arm as he squirmed. “No, you’re _not_ doing this! You’re _not_ taking me in! You’re just- you’re just some fucking lawman who doesn’t _care_ ! Let _go of me_!” He yanked himself away unsuccessfully, nearly pulling Atsumu off his saddle. “I need to get down there! I need to make sure she’s okay!” 

Shouyou’s voice cracking pathetically on that last word cracked something in Atsumu, too. He pursed his lips and drew the smaller man closer, nearly lifting him off the ground to make him meet his gaze. 

“We’re gettin’ yer horse, Shouyou,” Atsumu said, his tone serious and uncharacteristically calm. “Now stop whinin’ and get up here. Help me find a safe way down.” Shouyou stilled in his grasp, scowling bitterly up at him with unshed tears shining in his eyes. After a moment, he tilted his head in a slow nod. Atsumu gently released his grip on the man’s collar and offered a hand instead to pull him up onto the saddle. Shouyou accepted the help, wordlessly hoisting himself up and settling behind Atsumu. Silent, Atsumu set his gaze forward and rode off.

Realistically, there was no way Dorada had survived that fall unscathed. He hoped beyond anything that the mare was already dead. 

He didn’t want to think about the alternative.

  
  


Morning light filtered through the blanket of clouds overhead by the time Shouyou pointed out a path level enough for Storm Chaser to climb down, and they soon found themselves riding back through the ravine, hooves splashing in the stream’s shallow waters. It wasn’t long before they returned to the spot they stood up above at the top of the cliff just earlier. 

Dorada was there, her body lying half in the stream, half on the bank, her muddied sides rising and falling with sharp, shallow breaths. Shouyou didn’t wait for Atsumu to stop, jumping off the horse the second he saw his own and sprinting to her side. Atsumu slumped at the sight, his worries for the worst-case scenario unfolding before his eyes. The palomino, he realized as he got closer, was indeed alive, albeit just barely. Her wounded leg was caked in red, one of her ankles twisted at an unnatural angle, and blood trickled out of her nostrils. He was sure she had a few broken ribs. 

“Fuck,” he breathed as he dismounted his stallion a few feet away, watching as Shouyou knelt near the mare’s head and stroked shaking fingers down her neck. She stared up at him, eyes wide with shock and pain, a small squeak sounding in her throat.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Shouyou whispered, his eyes surveying the damage. “We’ll… we’ll get you fixed up. It’ll be okay. Just…” He sat back on his heels to look up and down the length of her body, visibly deflating as he hunched forward. 

There was no fixing this.

The revolver carrying one last shot suddenly weighed a ton as it rested in the holster on Atsumu’s hip. His fingers slowly closed around its grip, a burning iron lump forming in his throat. Shouyou had only a single option, a _merciful_ option, and he probably knew it. Sliding the gun out of its sheath, Atsumu stared down at its smooth, polished surface, hating the weight of it in his hand. When he lifted his gaze, he saw Shouyou staring at him in abject horror. 

“No,” the thief whispered, shaking his head. “No, it’s… she’ll be okay, she just needs… she just…” Tears began to spill down his cheeks, pooling into large drops under his chin.

“Shouyou, she’s sufferin’,” Atsumu murmured softly, brow cinched with grief. He didn’t want this. Not at all. A harsh sob wracked Shouyou’s frame, and for the first time he realized just how small the man looked, defeated in his lack of control. He wondered if the thief ever had to bear the unfortunate task of putting down an injured horse—Atsumu had a time or two. It was the cruel reality of riding out in the middle of nowhere with no aid nearby and no way to transport a fifteen-hundred pound animal; one either had to leave it to die a slow death or end its anguish with one shot.

It was the worst feeling in the world.

Shouyou, of all people, had to understand. The man looked up at him through his blurry tears and began to wipe his face on his sleeves. “Give me the gun,” he choked as he reached out his hand, “Let me do it.”

Stepping forward, Atsumu complied, holding the weapon between them for a second longer when Shouyou took hold of it. His eyes reflected the hurt in the other man’s gaze, and he gave a nod to show his sympathy before turning away. Atsumu moved over to Storm Chaser, using a hand to gently guide his head away from the scene. He stroked the stallion’s muzzle as he heard Shouyou cock the revolver, sniffling “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” over and over. Blinking wetness out of his eyes, Atsumu pressed his face to his precious horse’s cheek.

The gunshot took a piece of his heart with it.

  
  


Storm Chaser’s hooves pounded against the earth, the stallion heaving as he carried his load of two men out into the plains. Atsumu glanced back to the dark specs of Wakatoshi and Tobio riding after them on the horizon, then to Shouyou seated behind him, silent and red-eyed while he used one arm to grip the strap of a leather bag he took off Dorada’s saddle, the other clinging tightly to Atsumu’s waist. 

Atsumu cursed to himself when he noticed their pursuers were getting closer and closer by the minute. His horse was tired and overburdened; they couldn’t outrun the other men for long. That, and even from this far away-

 _Splat!_ A bullet pounded into the dirt a few feet to the right, splashing dust into the air.

-they were still trying to shoot. Tobio’s rifle, he assumed. Landing a shot from this distance was unlikely, but Atsumu really didn’t like how accurate Tobio was getting. 

In the distance he could see the dark smoke of an approaching train chugging along tracks laid ahead. Perfect. If they could cross the rails before the train passed, it might delay the other men, at least for a little while. He pressed his mount onward, steadily approaching the tracks. It was going to be close, but they would make it!

As they neared the railroad, another shot hit the dirt nearby, then another, the second of which close enough to nearly knock against one of Storm Chaser’s hooves, spraying dirt over his ankles. Panicking at the sudden unfamiliar impact, the stallion skidded to a stop and reared up on his hind legs with a loud whinny. 

“Storm, what the hell?!” Atsumu squeezed his thighs and tried to hang on, but Shouyou scrambling to maintain his hold dragged them both to the ground with a heavy thud. Groaning, he sat up to see another bullet pelt into the ground nearby, spooking the horse into jumping away, right over the train tracks just before the vehicle rushed by.

“ _Storm!_ ” Atsumu shouted as he was cut off from his stallion, rushing air whipping his bangs in front of his face as the train flew by. Between the gaps of passing cars, he could see his distressed horse pawing at the ground, unsure of where to go. “Shit!” He scrambled to his feet but leapt backward when he heard a shot whiz by and strike against one of the moving containers. Looking back, he could see that their pursuers were almost upon them. 

“We need to run,” Shouyou huffed, grabbing Atsumu’s wrist and taking off at a full sprint to run alongside the train. 

Atsumu stumbled a bit before matching his pace with Shouyou’s, tearing his hand away in the process. “To where!? They’re gonna catch us in no time!”

Shouyou craned his neck back to survey the oncoming cars, his eyes finally settling on a target. “Red boxcar coming up! Grab the bars of its door!”

Atsumu wanted to complain; to tell the thief just how insane he was, but there simply wasn’t any time. Fixing his gaze on the aforementioned boxcar, he waited, sprinting as fast as his legs could carry him, until just before the container passed. The two men jumped, both grabbing at the bars with all their might, the car’s momentum violently lurching them forward. Managing to hang on, Shouyou immediately began to kick at a latch securing the sliding door closed. 

“Hinata!” Tobio’s scream barely registered through the wind whipping in Atsumu’s ears. “Shouyou, you killed her!” The raven-haired man was gaining on them, his rifle pointed forward, Wakatoshi right on his tail. A bullet lodged itself in the car’s wooden frame, right between his and Shouyou’s heads. With a frustrated cry, the thief sent one last powerful kick to the metal latch, snapping it open. The door slid backwards as it opened, nearly knocking the pair off its handles when it clashed to a stop on its railing. 

Hurriedly, the men clambered into the car, panting with exhaustion when they finally collapsed onto its dirty wooden flooring. The container was filled with crates stacked atop one another toward the front and back of the small space, leaving a clearing in the middle. Outside, Atsumu could see Tobio coming into view beside the train, aiming his rifle into the car. Cursing, Atsumu dove behind a crate. 

“I’m taking you in dead or alive!” Tobio shouted while shooting at the stack of crates Shouyou had concealed himself behind, quickly fumbling to reload. “That goes for you, too, Buster!”

Growling, Atsumu heaved his crate forward, dragging it along the floor toward the door. “My name’s not fucking _Buster_ ,” he hollered before putting all his strength into a hefty kick against the wooden box’s side, sending it flying out of the cart toward the other man. Tobio’s eyes widened, and he swerved in an attempt to avoid the hazard, the movement jerking his horse’s head too far to the side. For the second time that day, both he and his beast went down in a cloud of dust.

“ _Hah!_ ” Atsumu spat, poking his head out the side of the car to get a better view, only to be met with the end of Wakatoshi’s shotgun. He swiftly pulled back just as the shot went off, blowing a large chunk out of the edge of the door. _Jesus fucking Christ_.

As Shouyou peered out from behind a crate, Atsumu crouched low and peeked out again, blinking when he saw that Wakatoshi had slowed, glowering ahead. Atsumu shifted his gaze forward to see a large stretch of water in the distance, a thin bridge built only for train tracks spanning its width. The men couldn’t follow over the river, not here, and not until the full length of the train passed, at least. 

Feeling tension leave his shoulders, Atsumu returned his attention to inside the boxcar. Shouyou had seated himself against the far wall of crates, staring at nothing as he took steady, deep breaths of air. After a pause, Atsumu moved to plop himself next to the thief, giving himself a moment to let the reality of the situation sink in. 

Dorada was gone, Storm Chaser was out there _somewhere_ (and who knew what would happen to him?), they had no ammunition, and two (or three) clearly dangerous men affiliated with the _worst_ gang possible wanted nothing more than to blow their heads clean off.

Fantastic.

Sounding a heavy sigh, Atsumu reached into his coat pocket to produce his flask, from which he took a long, much-needed swig. Wordlessly, he held it out to Shouyou. The smaller man blinked at it, then shook his head. 

“Not a fan,” he muttered softly, bringing his knees up to his chest to continue staring at the floor.

Atsumu’s heart ached for the thief—he knew the pain of ending a horse’s life, but he could never imagine what it would have felt like if he needed to do the same to Storm Chaser. God, he hoped his boy was okay. After emptying the last few remnants of whiskey from the container, he remembered the paper he had seized from Shouyou and reached to finger it out of his breast pocket. 

“Here,” said, holding it out to Shouyou. “I’m sorry about yer horse. She was really somethin’.”

Shouyou stared at the note for a long moment before taking it in his hand and pressing it close to his chest. “Thanks,” he sighed quietly, glancing up at the blonde. That somber look in his eye was still there, and Atsumu expected it wouldn’t leave for a long while. “She really was special. Fast. Beautiful.”

“I’ll say. I couldn’t ever take my eyes off y’all.”

That earned just the faintest ghost of a smile passing over Shouyou’s lips. “That’s ‘cause you were trying to catch us.”

“ _And_ because of the pretty horse,” Atsumu clarified, folding his arms over his chest. “Also, I don’t care what that asshole Tobio said. ‘S far as I’m concerned, _he’s_ the one that killed ‘er.”

Shouyou’s brow furrowed at that in clear disagreement. “Kag-” He paused, then sighed again. “Tobio’s just upset. He loved that horse.” When Atsumu arched a questioning brow, he continued. “We were coworkers. Practically raised her together.”

“So… you two stole shit together?” Atsumu asked, eager to learn more about the thief’s mysterious past.

“No,” Shouyou shook his head. “We worked on a ranch. Breaking broncos, mostly. Worked with a lot of horses.”

“Hey, me, too.” Atsumu offered a grin. “Family ranch. Been workin’ with horses since I could walk.”

Shouyou did smile at this. “You’re really lucky.”

“I like to think so.”

A moment of silence passed. 

“So… why’d ya stop?” Atsumu asked, definitely trying to pry as much information as he could out of the other man.

“Hm?”

“You know, I figure stealin’ people’s clothes isn’t part of that particular job description.” He leered at the thief, who chuckled softly.

“No, ah… things happen.”

“Things?”

“Things.” Shouyou repeated, signaling the end of that conversation. Alright, then.

Settling his head back against the crates, Atsumu closed his eyes, feeling the effects of the hardships of the past few days on his body. Between hardly sleeping, intense riding, the steady rocking of the traincar, and the oncoming buzz of the liquor he just consumed, he allowed himself to doze.

When he woke just an hour later, he saw Shouyou standing near the door of the car, reading over the worn paper of his note in the sunlight with a somber expression. Realizing Atsumu was awake, he quickly folded it into his breast pocket. 

“We should be reaching the next town soon,” Shouyou stated, looking out into the wilderness. “You should get yourself a horse and head home as quickly as possible. Pretty sure this’ll be the first place they look.”

“Yeah?” Atsumu stood and raised his arms in a stretch. “And what’re ya gonna do yerself?”

“I have places to be,” Shouyou responded lightly, glancing toward the other man. “Not telling you where, Lawman.”

Scoffing, Atsumu made his way toward the door, moving to lean against the frame opposite from the thief. “We’re past all that, don’cha think?”

“I think,” Shouyou mused aloud, “it would be better for you to walk away. Stay away from Ukai and his men. If it makes you feel any better, just know my friends and I are doing everything we can to take him down. He’s got a lot to answer for.”

Atsumu turned his head to gawk at the thief. “Take him down? Are you crazy?” Well, yes. He already knew the little spitfire _definitely_ had a few screws loose, but still. When Shouyou didn’t answer, he continued. “Let me help.”

Now it was Shouyou’s turn to gawk. “ _You_? No way. No. I told you to not get involved, and I’m not stupid enough to lead a lawman to the rest of us!”

“Yeah? Well I feel pretty fuckin’ involved, Shouyou. They’ve shot at me, taken my shit, caused me a world of trouble, and they know my face. I have a feelin’ this ain’t gonna end today. Goin’ home seems like the stupid thing to do.” Atsumu scowled off into the passing landscape. “So what if I was a lawman? Isn’t it in my best interest to take down Ukai? ‘Specially since he’s fucked with both of us.” He paused, raising his chin. “‘Sides… once I do that, I’ll have an easier time comin’ after ya since I won’t have to worry about ‘im, so let’s just… put that whole thing on hold ‘till then.”

It made sense in his head, at least. The world would be a better place without gangs like Ukai’s roaming around, especially ones specifically keen on putting a bullet through his brain. And maybe he did want a bit of extra time in a truce with Shouyou. Chatting instead of hashing it out was… nice. 

That, and in the back of his mind, he was still royally _pissed_.

“I don’t see why you’d want that,” Shouyou mumbled, knitting his brow in confusion. “You’re not in too deep yet. You could slip away. What would you give that up for?”

“For Dorada,” Atsumu answered with sincerity, meeting Shouyou’s surprised gaze. For a full few minutes, he felt like he was being picked apart under Shouyou’s contemplative stare, before the man finally spoke.

“If… If I consider that, I need you to _swear_ -”

“I swear,” Atsumu replied immediately, blinking when Shouyou moved to approach him, boots clacking against the wood planks of the car’s flooring. 

“Swear on your life. On Storm Chaser’s. Your brother’s. _Everything_ ,” the thief pressed when he closed the distance between them, the glint in his eye sharp, searching, capable of stripping away any facade Atsumu might choose to produce. “Swear you won’t tell a soul about _where_ we’re going and _who_ you’ll meet. If you rat them out, any of us, I’ll shoot you for real. This is about Ukai and nothing more.”

The intensity of Shouyou’s stare sent a shiver up Atsumu’s spine. It was terrifying, exposing, but also… exciting. He returned the look without a hint of deception, for at his core, he was being honest.

“I swear.”

After another long moment under the thief’s speculative gaze, Shouyou finally held out a hand, which Atsumu grasped firmly in a quick shake. 

“Don’t make me regret this,” Shouyou sighed, shaking his head as if he already did.

“Promise. I’m quite useful.”

Shouyou snorted at that. 

“So?” Atsumu leaned forward. “Where’re we goin’?”

“My friends are in Misbury,” Shouyou replied. He glanced upward, cocking his head to the side in thought. “I think you’ll like them, actually.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> Wow, this chapter took me longer to complete than I wanted, but I think I had the most fun with this one! I really wanted to have Tobio call Atsumu a "goody two-shoes" just once. It's satisfying.  
> And we finally have AtsuHina having to work together! And boy, do they do so beautifully!  
> I'm... sorry about Dorada. I know she's the fic's namesake. I know. 
> 
> Anywho, this story is about at its halfway point, so stay tuned for more! Let me know what you think!
> 
> Catch me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/Koocatoo) !


	4. Arguably Harmless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has a [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/04uEZElNSzyrItDh2NLxUz) ! Feel free to listen as you read and drop song suggestions in the comments.
> 
> Thank you [Kkitsunii](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/kkitsunii) for beta’ing this chapter!
> 
> Let's take a break from all the action to get to know a few more characters.

Misbury’s brick structures, some three to four stories high, loomed over Atsumu like the towering walls of a canyon adorned with all the fixings of wealthy civilization. Exquisitely painted signage featuring words he didn’t recognize swung from storefront posts, impeccably dressed individuals leaning against the wrought iron fencing of their balconies leisurely puffed cigarette smoke out into the cool air, and blinding light from _too many sources_ cut through the evening’s darkness almost as if night ceased to exist.

Wires criss-crossed overhead between buildings and spanned cobblestone-paved streets to carry electricity to lightbulbs throughout the city—a luxury Atsumu had heard of but never seen for himself, though he was sure that kind of technology wouldn’t grace his homely farm town for a good long while, if ever. 

It was a metropolis of shops, restaurants, offices, residences, and hotels densely packed against narrow roads spider-webbed throughout the expansive community, filled to the brim with noise like the clopping of horseshoes on stone and other clamoring one would normally find uncanny during nighttime.

The city was huge, and if Atsumu could be honest, standing within it was just as overwhelming as it was exciting. He didn’t often have a reason to travel this far east, but of course, he wasn’t here to sightsee.

That thought didn’t keep his mouth from dropping open the second he and Shouyou had slipped out of their unconventional passenger seats, darted through the train station, and ventured out into the bustling settlement. He stood still on the sidewalk to allow himself a moment to take in the sights, brown eyes following a sleek horse-drawn carriage passing by.

“First time, Country Boy?” Shouyou leered at Atsumu through the hazy glare of Misbury’s streetlights, a knowing smirk pulling at the corner of his lips when he leaned over to tap a finger underneath the blonde’s chin to close his mouth. Torn from his wonder, Atsumu swiped at the thief, who deftly danced away just out of his reach. 

“Don’t call me that like you ain’t one,” he huffed. “I’ve been here before, just not since I was a kid, and back then it wasn’t like-” He gestured vaguely around them. “-this.”

Times were changing, and they were changing fast.

Shouyou nodded his understanding before shrugging the saddlebag he salvaged over his shoulder. “Just don’t get yourself lost. Come on, this way.” With that, he set off at a brisk walk deeper into the city.

Atsumu watched him for a few heartbeats, knowing fully well that there would be no turning back after his spur-of-the-moment decision to join Shouyou’s endeavor to tackle Ukai’s ruthless gang. He had spent most of the day’s train ride recounting stories he heard from a few of the townsfolk back home. Family members were murdered for minor aggravations; farmland was burned when a business deal fell through; life savings had been pillaged for no discernable reason at all.

When he told Shouyou as much during their trip, the redhead nodded solemnly. “He takes the things you love and bends them to their breaking point,” he had said with no hidden bitterness. Clearly the thief’s history with the gang wasn’t a happy one, which was why Atsumu chose to hold off on asking his slew of questions in light of the wounds from the day’s tragic events still aching.

Instead he made nice with his temporary ally, opting to joke about a few of their more wild encounters over the past four months. Between extended lulls in conversation, he did manage to pull a few hollow smiles.

Perhaps he had only been doing it to make himself feel better, but it worked nonetheless.

Taking a deep breath, Atsumu followed Shouyou through the streets, twisting around more corners and alleyways than he could remember, before the thief came to a sudden halt at the end of a side-street lined with symmetrical brick row houses smacked together like sardines.

“One more time,” Shouyou stated as he turned around to face Atsumu, staring up at him with sharp eyes. “Promise me you won’t tell a soul.”

“Shouyou,” Atsumu sighed, placing a hand over his chest. “I’m a man of my word. Yer friends’re safe.” When Shouyou bit the corner of his lip, Atsumu continued, “Listen, I’m not yer enemy here. If we’re talkin’ about puttin’ away Ukai and bastards like the three chasin’ us around today, I’ll help however I can.”

“Then… you stay here. I’ll need to talk to them first,” Shouyou relented, squaring his shoulders.

Atsumu nodded, watching as Shouyou left to approach one of the houses and give the door a few light knocks. Standing alone under a streetlamp, he squinted when he saw the door open to reveal someone silhouetted against the warm light of their home. Clearly happy to see the other man, the figure bent down to wrap Shouyou in a quick embrace. They spoke for a good while, anxiety prickling at the back of Atsumu’s mind when he saw them both look in his direction, and eventually Shouyou raised an arm to wave him over. 

Okay. Atsumu released a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding and took the first step forward to meet Shouyou’s companions. Hopefully they liked him. Hell, hopefully _he_ liked _them_. Ideally, they were the kind of people who reflected Shouyou’s sense of honor (rotten thieves, but… nice about it?); that way he would be less prone to questioning his own morality around the situation. Steeling his nerves, he approached the doorway.

“Atsumu,” Shouyou greeted, gesturing to the figure in the doorway, “this is Keiji.”

Keiji, now that Atsumu could see him properly, was a slender man matching his own height, clothed in a white pressed button-down accented by navy slacks, a vest, and a silver bolo tie featuring the imprint of an owl with turquoise cabochons for its eyes. Long fingers gracefully swept a few stray wisps of dark, tousled hair away from the analytical gaze peering over the wiry rim of spectacles resting on the bridge of his nose. Teal eyes flicked briefly over Atsumu’s person before the man extended a hand into the space between them. 

“I am Keiji Akaashi,” he stated, his voice soft and velvety, the faintest upturn of his lips pulling against his fair features. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

 _Pretty_ was the only word Atsumu could find in his vocabulary to describe the other man harboring such a palpable sense of elegance.

Putting his best foot forward, Atsumu grasped Keiji’s hand in a firm shake. “Atsumu Miya,” he declared with a friendly smile. “Likewise, Mister Akaashi.”

Mister Akaashi’s smile increased a fraction. “No need for formalities, Atsumu. Any friend of Shouyou is a friend of mine.” Stepping to the side, he waved a hand toward the interior of his home. “Come in. We just finished supper, but you two are welcome to our leftovers.”

The guy could have been a serial killer, for all Atsumu knew, but for now Keiji, in all his pleasantness, was his new favorite person. He was _starving_ . “After you, _friend_ ,” he offered, motioning for Shouyou to enter first. The smaller man made his way inside with a snort, Atsumu quickly following suit. Keiji observed the exchange with interest before closing and locking the door behind them. 

“Who all is in town?” Shouyou asked as they filed through a narrow foyer lined with floral wallpaper and mahogany wood accents. 

“Well, Shuugo and Shion left a few days ago to investigate a factory recently built east of here,” Keiji replied, tapping a finger against his chin in thought. “It’s under one of Ukai’s aliases, you see, and-”

A sudden commotion from around the corner cut him off, and all eyes turned forward at the sound of heavy footsteps approaching.

“Is that Shouyou I hear?” A distinctly excited voice boomed through the structure before a head popped out from behind a wall separating the entryway from the rest of the home. When he stepped into full view, Atsumu could see that the man was tall and impressively built, his cotton shirt and brown pants supported by suspenders left very little of his muscled frame to the imagination. He sported thick silver hair with dark roots haphazardly pushed back with pomade, and the glint in his round, golden eyes matched that of the broad grin overtaking his features.

“Koutarou!” Shouyou chimed, holding his arms out preemptively when the burly man bounded over to encompass him in a tight hug that lifted his feet off the polished wood flooring. Atsumu swore he heard something pop, but he found himself pleased to see the first genuine smile Shouyou produced since their armistice.

“It’s been _months_ , Shou!” Koutarou said as he set his companion back down to the floor, his hands moving to rest on Shouyou’s shoulders. “Get anything good?”

“Plenty,” Shouyou promised, glancing first at the bag on his shoulder then to Atsumu standing behind him. “I’ve brought a friend. He’s going to help us take down Ukai.”

Impossibly, Koutarou’s eyes widened further when he curiously looked Atsumu’s way. “Really?”

Taking this as his cue, Atsumu offered a hand. “Atsumu Miya, here to help.”

Koutarou’s ensuing grip was as bone-crushing as the rough one-handed backslap Atsumu was pulled into. 

“Hey! I’m Koutarou Bokuto,” the man announced, beaming, “but my friends call me Kou, Koutarou, Bo, or Bokuto. Take your pick!”

“I’ll, uh-” Atsumu peeled himself away from the larger man, shaking his hand in the air to resume blood flow to his fingers. He pointedly ignored Shouyou’s snicker. “Koutarou’s fine, yeah?”

When Koutarou provided an approving thumbs-up, Keiji ushered them onward from behind, directing them toward a dining room adjacent to the kitchen. Atsumu glanced about the well-furnished home in the process, taking note of velvet-upholstered furniture featuring intricate wood carvings, colorful oriental rugs, and an impressive variety of artwork dappling the papered walls of the home’s interior. How the hell could these people afford a place like this?

He glanced at Shouyou, who busied himself with settling into one of the many chairs surrounding an elegant dining table. 

Oh. Right.

Most of this shit was probably stolen. 

Atsumu kept these thoughts to himself when Keiji, after a brief disappearance into the kitchen, set plates of meat and potatoes in front of Shouyou and himself, the two travelers immediately digging in ravenously. Stolen or not, Atsumu was making an exception for the first plate of actual food he’d had in a while. Koutarou, who he later learned had cooked the meal, leaned back in his own chair with a satisfied smirk. 

It didn’t take long for empty plates to be replaced with beverages—beer for Shouyou and a small glass of scotch for Atsumu. The drink tasted much too refined for his palette, but he thanked his hosts profusely, anyway. After the day he’d had, he’d drink just about anything.

For a group of presumed outlaws, they seemed to be quite relaxed in the presence of a new face. Atsumu couldn’t help but find the trusting atmosphere odd. Not that he had any experience, but if he were a criminal, he simply wouldn’t allow some random guy into his safehouse on another man’s say-so. What did Shouyou tell Keiji, anyway?

“So,” Koutarou began, smacking his hands down onto the table in front of his own beer. “Shou, show us what you got!”

With a small grin, Shouyou tugged his saddlebag into his lap and opened its flap, first producing a thick stack of folded papers, which he promptly handed to Keiji. Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, Keiji began to leaf through them.

“Got a few bonds,” Shouyou stated proudly. “Should be worth something. Also found some records showing transactions with Ukai’s businesses. You were right about Daishou and Haiba. Proof’s all there.” He paused, glancing to the side. “ETC’s still active, too.”

Keiji hummed thoughtfully as he separated the papers into a few neat stacks, his eyes gentle when they flicked up to Shouyou. “That simply can’t be helped.” Koutarou grunted in agreement.

Atsumu didn’t have the slightest idea as to what they were talking about. His confusion must’ve been evident in his expression, because Keiji quickly offered an apologetic smile. 

“We’re gathering evidence,” the bespectacled man explained, trailing his fingers over the papers lying before him. “Ukai has a lot of connections; many business partners working with him behind the scenes. They offer his gang resources, information, immunity to the law…” He trailed off before waving a hand dismissively in the air. “We’ve discovered a few aliases of his in the marketplace, and with transaction records like these, it will be easier to turn them in to the _proper_ authorities and put an end to their meddling.”

“Destroy his support system so he’s got nowhere to go once we strike,” Koutarou added, flashing a grin. “Even if we just up and killed ‘im, his gang’ll keep moving along. We figure he’s got plenty of backup plans in place for that sort of thing.”

“Huh.” Atsumu mulled over the idea, thoroughly impressed by the group’s more tasteful approach compared to the ‘run and gun’ scenario he envisioned in his mind. It made the small number of people he met so far seem much more manageable for their ultimate goal. Keiji mentioned two others just earlier, but was that all they had to their little faction?

The jostling of a key in the front door might as well have been an answer to that question. All heads turned toward the front of the home when they heard the door open and close, a heavy sigh soon accompanying approaching footsteps.

“Bad day?” Koutarou leaned back in his chair, craning his neck to greet the newest addition to their gathering when he stepped around the corner.

Tall and dressed in a well-fitted suit with a long black coat, the stranger used a gloved hand to tug the bandana masking most of his features down to his chin before he opened his mouth to speak.

“I’m quitting. If I have to deal with _one_ more customer asking for the impossible, I will lose my sanity,” he declared, flicking his head to the side to toss a thick lock of curled dark hair out of his eyes. 

“I’m pretty sure you said that the last time I was here,” Shouyou put, offering a smirk from across the table.

Rolling his eyes, the man turned to give the redhead a curt nod. “Shouyou. Good to see you back.” He flicked his gaze to Atsumu, arching a speculative brow. “And you are?”

“Atsumu Miya,” the blonde replied, raising his glass slightly. “New partner. Nice to meet ya.”

“Kiyoomi Sakusa,” the newcomer responded slowly, narrowing his eyes before directing his attention away with a quiet, dismissive scoff. “You must be the one who tracked dirt into the foyer.”

Dirt? Atsumu scowled at this, glancing down at his boots. Sure, they had clearly been outside recently, but Shouyou’s probably didn’t look any better. Why did Kiyoomi feel the need to single _him_ out? Fuck this guy.

“Sorry, but ya must’ve brought some in with ya without realizin’ it. Happens to the best of us.” After producing a smile he was well-aware didn’t quite exude “friendliness”, Atsumu took a steady sip of his drink, doing his best to ignore the withering stare Kiyoomi shot his way.

“I hardly think so.” Kiyoomi crossed his arms in front of his chest, nose wrinkled in a sneer.

“Don’t remember askin’ to hear yer thoughts on the matter,” came Atsumu’s easy response. Okay, _fine_ , he was being a dick. So much for his pleasant streak of introductions, but that asshole was the one who started it!

Now, Shinsuke Kita was the only man capable of invoking the fear of God into Atsumu, but the look Kiyoomi subsequently sent his way came _very close_.

Keiji interjected before the situation could escalate. “The foyer can be swept later. Shouyou was just showing us his haul. Kiyoomi, a drink?”

“That would be lovely,” Kiyoomi answered through gritted teeth, his hostile gaze never leaving Atsumu’s. 

Nervously glancing between the men, Shouyou cleared his throat. “Well, um, the rest is… you know.” Lifting his bag up a little further, he spread its opening to reveal its contents—wads of cash, fistfulls of coins, scraps of precious metal, varying pieces of jewelry, and more.

“ _There_ it is,” Atsumu drawled once he returned to his plan of simply ignoring Kiyoomi, eyeing Shouyou with amusement when the thief stuck his tongue out in response. “So, what, ya just go out to get info and coin whenever ya feel like it?”

“That’s one way to put it,” Shouyou agreed, setting his bag upon the tabletop. “I go out and find whatever’s necessary for our cause.” He tilted his head to the side, glancing upward in thought. “Mostly.”

Yeah. _Mostly_. Atsumu wasn’t going to forget about their first encounter for as long as he lived.

“I cross-reference Shouyou’s information with official documentation,” Keiji added after he handed a glass of scotch to Kiyoomi. “I’m a teller at the Misbury Bank and Notary. I’ve access to a variety of receipts, trade deals, and accounts to keep track of _what_ is moving _where_ and for _whom_.”

An outlaw working for a _bank_. Unbelievable.

“I take up odd jobs around the area when I’m not out getting necessities,” Koutarou joined in, proudly placing a hand over his chest. “Usually involves escorting someone’s wagon to the next town over. I get a bunch of the latest gossip and nick whatever looks fancy!”

Made sense. The guy certainly looked capable enough.

Atsumu turned to cock a mocking brow at Kiyoomi. “And what’re you, the cleanup crew?”

Shouyou stifled a laugh at that one. Hey, at least someone thought he was funny.

Kiyoomi fixed Atsumu in a stern, level glare. “Demolition expert,” he deadpanned, as if it were the most obvious response one could give.

Atsumu blinked. What.

“Omi makes dynamite!” Koutarou helpfully provided, excitedly leaning forward against the table on his elbows. When Atsumu’s eyes scoured the room for a more detailed explanation, Keiji simply nodded, and Shouyou offered an innocent shrug.

In light of all this new information, Atsumu had questions—plenty of questions—but most importantly…

“What the fuck do y’all need _dynamite_ for!?” Atsumu asked, exasperated. He was met with another roll of Kiyoomi’s dark eyes. 

“It’s an incredibly useful tool,” the apparent Demolition Expert sighed, casually swirling his beverage around in his glass. “Blows locks, opens safes, destroys buildings… And it takes delicate precision to properly assess just how much product is needed for specific jobs, not that you would understand.” Before Atsumu could open his mouth to retort, Kiyoomi continued. “And what of yourself? Why am I to accept a poor houseguest, someone I’ve never met, into a venture I thought was highly confidential?” At that, he swept his gaze around the room, prodding everyone for an answer.

Atsumu bristled at Kiyoomi’s callous remarks, feeling anger bubbling beneath his skin, but in all fairness, the man had a point. It was the first time someone asked why Shouyou brought him there, and if he could be completely honest with himself, he didn’t have a straight answer. Still, he wasn’t about to let some jackass who seemed to care way too much about things like dirty entryways shut this door of opportunity in his face. Before he could reply, however, Shouyou jumped to his defense. 

“He’s one of the best shots I’ve ever seen,” the thief declared, matching Kiyoomi’s harsh stare. “Skilled on horseback. Stubborn. Driven. Gets the job done. I brought him here because he’s the kind of guy we need right now. We’re outnumbered to begin with.”

A foreign warmth built in Atsumu’s chest upon hearing Shouyou’s words of praise, threatening to spill over visibly onto his skin in the form of a pinkish hue. He loved receiving recognition for his skillset; he thrived on it, but something about hearing it from Shouyou—a man whose own abilities he regularly found equally worthy of exaltation—made Atsumu’s heart skip a few beats.

His little thief _was_ the one who agreed to let him join, after all. Contrary to their previous arrangement over the last few months, Shouyou was providing his full support. 

“Yeah,” Atsumu agreed, donning a haughty smirk. “And I learned a thing or two workin’ with the law. Even managed to catch someone like Shouyou, there.” If these men knew Shouyou well enough, they would certainly recognize the significance of such a claim!

Instead, silence was the only answer Atsumu received. All eyes moved from him to Shouyou, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat. 

“A lawman,” Kiyoomi stated belligerently, glowering at Shouyou. “You brought a _lawman_ here?”

That particular piece of information had yet to be disclosed, Atsumu realized too-late as he glanced around the room, brown eyes flicking between a mix of surprised expressions, though Keiji in particular looked more thoughtful than anything. 

“Not anymore,” Atsumu attempted to clarify, bringing his hands up to signal his lack of ill-intent. “I’m not gonna- I mean, I promised I wouldn’t rat y’all out or anythin’ like that.”

“Oh, you _promised_?” Kiyoomi, who was well on his way to becoming Atsumu’s least-favorite person in the entire world, dramatically flared his arms outward to emphasize his frustration. “And we’re expected to simply believe you?”

“I do,” Shouyou stated immediately, settling his intense gaze upon Kiyoomi. “I trust him.”

That feeling in Atsumu’s chest increased a notch in intensity.

Kiyoomi grimaced. A long period of silence stretched so tense between the men, Atsumu felt as if he was suffocating. Maybe this was a bad idea, after all. Maybe he should have gone home, like his Shinsuke-thoughts suggested earlier. Maybe this small band of outlaws was going to decide they didn’t want an ex-lawman (or whatever Atsumu was, hell if he knew at this point) in their midst and shoot him dead.

The startling clap of Koutarou’s palms snapped that tension like a cracking whip, drawing all eyes his way. “If Shouyou trusts him, so do I,” he loudly informed everyone, the determined slant of his eyebrows accentuating his statement. Keiji visibly relaxed, and an appreciative smile split Shouyou’s features. Atsumu peered at Koutarou, grateful for his intervention. When Kiyoomi opened his mouth to speak, Koutarou beat him to the punch.

“So you said you caught Shouyou?” Koutarou quickly changed the subject, leering at the blonde with a smirk. “That’s not an easy thing to do!”

Both Atsumu and Shouyou puffed out their chests pridefully. Kiyoomi scoffed under his breath.

“Especially with a horse as fast as Dorada,” Koutarou continued, his smile broadening when his eager yellow eyes settled on Shouyou. “Speaking of, did you get her stabled? Wanna go ride tomorrow?”

The relief Koutarou initially provided came crashing down upon Atsumu in violent waves of grief. For a brief moment, he met Shouyou’s gaze to see the other man looking crestfallen.

“She’s…” Shouyou hesitated, averting his gaze when Koutarou cocked his head to the side, brows furrowed in concern. “Dorada got hurt. Badly. She’s gone.”

For the second time that evening, a moment of heavy silence weighed down upon the room. Koutarou’s face fell. “Shou, I’m so sorry, I-” He seemed to be at a loss for words, glancing over at Keiji, who looked equally mournful as he reached to grasp Shouyou’s shoulder.

Atsumu didn’t miss the accusatory glare Kiyoomi shot his way, and if he had a single modicum less of self-control, he would’ve punched him right in the jaw.

“It’s okay,” Shouyou said, summoning a weak smile. “I’ll be okay. Let’s focus on getting everything we can against Ukai, alright?”

It took a moment for everyone to nod in agreement, their expressions contorted bitterly with anguish—everyone but Kiyoomi, who quickly downed the rest of his drink before turning to walk back toward the front door. 

“You lost your horse, and now you’re jeopardizing everything we’ve worked toward. Wonderful,” he muttered insensitively as he disappeared around the corner. The slamming door sent a jolt through everyone’s shoulders.

What the actual _fuck_ was that bastard’s problem?

“I’ll go talk to him,” Shouyou sighed, standing from his chair. 

“Ya shouldn’t have to,” Atsumu growled, enraged by Kiyoomi’s behavior. Sure, perhaps he could understand the man’s reluctance to let Atsumu join their dangerous undertaking, but to blame Shouyou for Dorada’s death without knowing the full story and storm outside like some sort of melodramatic damsel? _That_ was unacceptable.

“No, I do. He just…” Shouyou faltered, shook his head, and moved to walk briskly out of the house, leaving the remaining three men in an awkward, tense silence. 

After a few moments, Keiji cleared his throat. “It’s getting late. You can stay here tonight, Atsumu. I’ll arrange a space for you to rest. Come.” He slid his chair back to stand from the table. “Follow me upstairs.”

Atsumu hesitated, biting the inside of this cheek. “I’m thinkin’ I’m not welcome here.”

“You’re thinking wrong,” came Keiji’s simple reply as he moved toward a staircase tucked against the far wall. “Kiyoomi can be difficult, at times, but he means well. Give him time.”

Yeah. Right.

Koutarou flashed Atsumu an encouraging smile and motioned for him to go on and follow. 

With a sigh, Atsumu stood from his seat and did so, slow steps bringing him to the base of the stairs where Keiji waited. Given everyone but Kiyoomi’s friendly attitude, he really had no discernable reason to feel as uneasy as he did, right? Again, he glanced down at his boots. Perhaps they were a little muddy. He slid the shoes off and carried them in a hand.

“We’ve two bedrooms and a washroom here on the second floor,” Keiji said when they began their ascent up the polished wooden stairs. “Shouyou and Kiyoomi have already laid claim to these.” When they reached the second floor, he immediately took a sharp turn to continue their way upward to the next story. “Koutarou and I stay up here. The other room is for storage. You,” he gestured toward the far end of the hallway, where a navy tufted chaise rested against the base of a large window, “can sleep there. I’ve plenty of extra blankets to make you comfortable.”

Atsumu paused at the top of the steps, eyes flicking from Keiji to the rather small piece of furniture decorated with a few plush pillows featuring tassels hanging from their corners. 

“Oh.” He reached to rub at the back of his neck. “‘Preciate it, but I can stay in a hotel, if ya don’t have the space. Don’t wanna impose on y’all.” Not only did the couch look unfit in length for sleeping, but the idea of staying in the same place with someone as hostile as Kiyoomi didn’t quite sit right with Atsumu. He didn’t want to get murdered in his sleep. 

Hell, he wanted to get to know this band of thieves a little better before sleeping in the middle of their nest.

“I’m afraid I have to insist,” Keiji replied evenly, looking at Atsumu through his dark eyelashes. “We’re a team now, after all. We should keep an eye on each other.”

Atsumu blinked, his eyes locked with Keiji’s level gaze. Ah. So he was being monitored. Just until further notice, he hoped, but he couldn’t help but find the idea a little nerve-wracking. Upon this realization, Atsumu let out a breathy scoff, a slight grin pulling at his lips. 

“I thought ya were being a little too welcoming for a bunch of outlaws,” he remarked, placing his hands on his hips. “If it’s any consolation, I’m not plannin’ on tryin’ anything.”

“I believe you,” Keiji put simply, stepping toward the door he defined as a storage space, “but one can’t be too careful.” After using a key to unlock the door, he disappeared inside the room for a brief moment before returning with a few blankets and a pillow in his arms. “I’ll have you know I’m a light sleeper.”

“And I’ll have ya know I’m exhausted.” However uncomfortable his pleasantly forced sleeping arrangement looked, he was sure he would hardly stir through the night once he managed to get to sleep. “Doubt I’ll wake ya.”

Once Keiji placed the bedding on the chaise, he offered a friendly smile. “Do let me know if you need anything.”

“Uh, yeah. Will do.” Atsumu watched as Keiji nodded, turned to lock the storage room door, and descended the staircase, leaving the blonde standing alone in the middle of the unfamiliar dwelling.

Out of sheer curiosity, he moved to check the knob of the storage room, finding it indeed securely fastened shut. It must have been where they kept the rest of their stolen shit, he guessed. Along with their spare linens, for some reason.

Yet another sigh escaped Atsumu’s lungs when he resigned to seat himself on the narrow sofa, his frame bouncing slightly against its springy tufts. It wasn’t so bad—a padded piece of furniture was infinitely more comfortable than the paper-thin bedroll he spent the last few months sleeping on against the cold, hard ground, even if his legs were going to hang off the sides. 

Atsumu sat there for a while, staring at the floor while he turned the day’s events over in his mind. He hoped Storm Chaser was safe. He wondered if Osamu thought about him or if he was missed back home. He thought about what Shinsuke would have said if he knew what Atsumu had gotten himself into now.

Shaking his head, Atsumu leaned against the chaise’s backrest and closed his eyes, nearly drifting into unconsciousness before the sound of boots clacking against the stairs drew his attention. Shouyou soon appeared down the short corridor.

“Comfy?” Shouyou wore a very faint smile as he approached, hands settled comfortably on his hips.

“Depends. Is Kiyoomi gonna try to smother me in my sleep?” Atsumu responded, quirking a brow.

Shouyou chuckled softly. “No, he’s okay. Just needed the full story.” He reached to scratch at the side of his face, averting his gaze. “Can’t say he’s ever one to make the best first impressions, though. Sorry about that.”

“No shit,” Atsumu scoffed, his sigh full of relief. So long as Kiyoomi planned to play nice, he could work with the situation. 

“To be fair, I’m pretty sure you _were_ the one who tracked dirt into the house.”

“Oh, shut up.” Atsumu grabbed one of the gaudy pillows and chucked it at the redhead, who easily stepped out of its trajectory with a smirk. “He didn’t have to be such a bitch about that and the thing with yer horse.” He paused, eyeing Shouyou carefully. “Are, uh… ya really doin’ okay with that?”

Something shifted behind Shouyou’s eyes, but he quickly spread a smile over his lips. “I’ll be fine. Why, are you that worried about me?”

“Nah, just need to make sure ya can still keep up.”

Or, perhaps, the memory of Shouyou’s distraught wail over Dorada’s corpse still made his chest clench with grief. He imagined it would for a long while. 

Shouyou regarded him for a moment. “That won’t be a problem,” he said as he raised his arms in a long stretch and turned to walk back toward the stairs. “I’m going to wash up and go to sleep. You behave, ‘kay?”

“That’s my line,” Atsumu scoffed, smirking after the retreating thief. 

He did feel better, at least. 

Deciding to make the most of the situation and leave his worries for another day, Atsumu slid off his boots, belts, and coat into a neat pile underneath the chaise. After arranging himself underneath Keiji’s generous pile of blankets, he laid down to finally get some much-needed rest, his legs indeed dangling off the side of the furniture. 

He didn’t seem to mind much, as he was asleep in minutes.

  
  
  
  


“-tsumu? Hey, ‘Tsumu?”

A voice much too close to Atsumu’s face half-whispered, hot breath tickling his nose. Muffling a groan into a pillow, he forced his eyes open into a squint to find himself face-to-face with the large, shimmering eyes of Koutarou. Yelping at their close proximity, Atsumu jolted into a sitting position and leaned his body as far away as the small sofa allowed.

“What the fuck’re you doing?” He wheezed, clutching at the blanket pooled in his lap.

“Morning!” Koutarou chimed louder than necessary toward someone who just woke up, seemingly unconcerned by his clear invasion of personal space. “Didn’t want you to lose too much of the day. Everyone else is already gone. How ‘bout you eat some grub, and we can go run our errands?”

“Errands,” Atsumu repeated dumbly, staring up at the other man as he blinked sleep out of his eyes. “What’re ya talkin’ about? Where’d everyone go?” How long did he sleep? It couldn’t have been _that_ late, judging by the light streaming through the window behind him.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Koutarou hummed as he thoughtfully glanced upward. “Keiji and Omi just left for work, and Shou said he had things to do, so that leaves you ‘n me.” A blinding smile returned to overtake his features. “We’re gonna take Shou’s haul in to get everything appraised.”

Ah, right. These thieves had jobs, apparently, although Atsumu hadn’t the faintest idea as to what Shouyou would be up to. 

“And I’ve gotta come with ya ‘cause y’all don’t trust me yet, yeah?” Atsumu released a yawn alongside his query, feeling an eye twitch in mild irritation when Koutarou nodded enthusiastically. 

Well, at least the guy was honest about it.

“Yep! Sounds about right. I mean,” Koutarou chuckled lightly, “Shou’s a good judge of character, but you’ve gotta understand why we need a few precautions.”

“I slept right outside yer door last night. If I meant y’all any harm, I could’a done it already,” Atsumu casually remarked as he ran his fingers through his hair. Ugh, days-old pomade and sweat were making it stick out in every direction.

“You would’ve _tried_ ,” Koutarou corrected, holding a finger in the air, “and I would’ve blown your head clean off!” When Atsumu’s eyes widened, Koutarou’s grin broadened. “I sleep with a shotgun right next to me. You wouldn’t have gotten far.”

That was… good to know. 

Satisfied with Atsumu’s bewildered silence, Koutarou nodded once and turned to head back downstairs. “Hurry up! We’ve got places to be!”

With a sigh, Atsumu stood from the chaise to get himself ready for the day. 

After scarfing down a few hotcakes Koutarou had made, the two men ventured out into the bustling city, the sound of their boots clicking against cobblestones merging with the settlement’s daily turmoil.

“So, where exactly are we goin’?” Atsumu asked, blinking through the sunlight at Shouyou’s saddlebag full of stolen goods slung over Koutarou’s shoulder. “Can’t imagine a reliable business would regularly work with the likes of y’all.” 

Steadily moving around a cluster of people chatting outside a restaurant, Koutarou glanced at his companion with a mischievous smirk. “There are some real fine tradesmen here in Misbury. We’ve got a friend here who makes sure our efforts pay out.”

These outlaws worked on a larger scale than Atsumu could have imagined. Holding actual jobs? Working with explosives? Having business connections? All while living in the middle of a huge city riddled with lawmen, bounty hunters, and if he had to guess, individuals associated with the very entity they planned to decimate.

Atsumu supposed he should really stop having expectations with people like this. Hell, he should’ve dropped those the moment he met Shouyou.

After ambling through a few crowded streets, Koutarou finally came to a stop in front of a small shop in an alleyway sandwiched between two towering brick buildings. A weather-worn sign with chipped paint swung from a post on the structure's overhang, simply reading: _Appraisal and Resale_. Koutarou didn’t hesitate before he pushed open the door, the jingling of a small bell fastened to the upper corner of the doorframe cheerfully announcing their presence. 

Atsumu glanced around as he stepped into the small space, squinting at a variety of miscellaneous items stacked on shelves lining the walls with handwritten cards advertising their prices. Most of it looked like junk. Dust seemed to be ever-present in the air, drifting gracefully in rays of sunlight filtering in through the front windows. At the far end of the shop was a long counter spanning one side to the other, upon which a black cat lounged on its side, its sleek tail flicking this way and that while its slitted gaze followed the newcomers as they approached.

A man popped his head through a door behind the counter, his dark hair sticking up in wild directions as if he had just rolled out of bed. Adjusting the fit of his pinstripe vest, he made his way out into the open.

“Kou!” He exclaimed, quickly stepping closer to reach over the counter and slap his palm against Koutarou’s waiting hand. “Nice to see you. Bringing me goodies again?”

“As always,” Koutarou laughed, yanking the man into a tight squeeze from across the barrier before pulling away to gesture toward Atsumu. “Got a new partner here—’Tsumu. Just showing him where to take any valuables he comes across.”

“‘Tsumu, huh?” The man regarded Atsumu with interest, an easy smirk playing on his lips when he reached out to offer a hand. “Tetsurou Kuroo, I help operate the shop here. So you get to go off and have all the fun with Kou here?”

“Atsumu Miya. Guess ya could say that,” Atsumu replied as he shook the man’s hand. Something about this guy’s sly smile and shifty demeanor screamed the word _swindler_. This was more in line with what he imagined Shouyou’s companions to be like. “And ya get to keep all the junk for yerself?”

Tetsurou laughed at that. “I pay out, I promise.”

“‘Tsumu needs it, for sure,” Koutarou added, fishing a wallet out of his back pocket and flipping it open to reveal two small bills inside. “The poor guy’s _broke_!” 

Atsumu’s eyes widened. That… That was _his_ wallet!

Sputtering incoherently, he patted his own pockets before shooting a dumbfounded, angry glare Koutarou’s way. “When the fuck did ya take that!?” He was sure—no, _positive_ —he had it in his possession before he left the house. Tetsurou cackled at the outburst, scaring the shop’s cat into scrambling off the counter and through the door to the back room.

Sporting an amused smirk, Koutarou tossed the wallet to its rightful owner. “Who knows? You should pay better attention. It’s important to keep an eye on your things around here.”

“No shit.” Sighing, Atsumu caught the worn fold of leather and tucked it into his coat. “Can’t forget yer a bunch’a thieves.”

“Hardworking thieves,” Tetsurou corrected, eyeing the bag hanging off Koutarou’s shoulder. “Keeps business flowing, and they always bring back plenty of entertaining stories.” As if remembering something, the man’s eyes lit up when he flicked his gaze up to Koutarou. “Speaking of, have I got something for _you_.” He reached to flick up a latch and swing open a separator door between a gap along the counter. “Come on back!”

Cocking his head to the side curiously, Koutarou held the saddlebag out to Atsumu, who took it with a questioning tilt of his head.

“Take care of this, ‘kay?” Koutarou gave his companion a thumbs-up before turning to follow the shopkeep.

What? What the hell was he supposed to do with this?

“Kenma! Come help our customers,” Tetsurou called as he led Koutarou through the doorway and out of sight.

Blinking, Atsumu took a few steps over to peek into the back room, unable to see anything meaningful before another figure came into view—a shorter man with long dark hair loosely tied into a ponytail behind his head. Rubbing at bags under his eyes, Kenma yawned as he approached the counter.

“It’s too early for this,” he mumbled quietly before settling his gaze upon his patron. “Show me what you have.”

“Oh, uh…” Atsumu opened the bag, his brow knitting in confusion at the pile of _stuff_ inside. Glancing briefly to the other man, he began to grab items and place them on the counter one at a time.

Necklaces, belt buckles, large chunks of metal, a pack of fancy-looking cigars, gemstones, earrings, bangles, silver chains, beads…

All the cash and coins were gone, he noted.

Wordlessly Kenma separated the trinkets into organized piles until Atsumu finished emptying the bag. The shorter man paused to rest a finger under his chin, his golden eyes catlike as they darted between the various groupings. “Did Shouyou get these?” He finally asked, meeting Atsumu’s curious stare. 

“Yeah.” Atsumu arched a brow. “How’d ya know?”

“He always brings in the best finds,” Kenma answered with a shrug, moving to grab a few tools from a shelf underneath the counter. Soon equipped with tiny pliers and picks, he crouched low to begin prying valuable stones out of their settings in pieces of jewelry. Nimble fingers worked quickly to remove gems and further separate the piles, soon plucking individual pieces to examine under an eyeglass. One hand sifted through the goods; the other reached to scribble down notes on a piece of paper as Kenma progressed. Atsumu observed in silence, watching the process with interest.

Just as Kenma set the last of the stolen items down, Tetsurou returned with Koutarou in tow, the latter of whom carrying a very large, very shiny shotgun in his arms.

“Look what I got!” Koutarou exclaimed, practically vibrating with excitement. 

Raising his brows, Atsumu leaned in closer to admire the details. The weapon looked brand new and recently polished with intricate carvings stretching along its length. The thing looked like a piece of art in lieu of a violent killing machine. Atsumu released a low, impressed whistle at the sight. 

“Looks expensive.”

Tetsurou grinned at this. “It will be once it’s on the market. Kou here’s gonna take it out for a spin.”

“And I get to keep it, right?” Koutarou asked as he aimed the weapon toward the door, fiddling with his grip around the stock.

“Absolutely not. That’s the only one I have!” Crossing his arms, Tetsurou glanced back toward his coworker. “Bet you couldn’t afford it, anyway. How much, Kenma?”

“One minute,” Kenma murmured, biting the end of his pen while his eyes scanned the length of his paper. 

“Don’t be like that, Tetsu,” Koutarou whined, feigning a pout when he turned to address his friend. “This is no way to treat someone who broke you out of prison!”

Atsumu choked on his own spit at his companion’s comment, spurring on a violent coughing fit. Koutarou did _what?_

Tetsurou dramatically rolled his eyes. “You gonna hold that over my head for the rest of my life?”

“He should—you deserve it,” Kenma remarked before holding up the paper with a number circled toward the bottom. It was a fully cataloged receipt for all the items he just evaluated. “Here’s your total.” When Atsumu took the paper, gaping at the large number, Kenma continued, “Half the money will be in the usual spot tonight; the other half will take a week.”

Jesus Christ, no wonder the group of thieves could afford whatever they wanted.

“Great!” Plucking the receipt out of Atsumu’s hand, Koutarou folded it up and slid it into a pocket. After adjusting his jacket, he shouldered the shotgun by a leather strap strung between its stock and barrel. “We’ll be on our way, then!” Giving Atsumu a nudge, he headed toward the door.

“Take care of the gun, you thieving bastard,” Tetsurou scoffed after them, though the amused smirk playing on his lips quickly faded. “And watch your backs.” His voice lowered a notch. “Word on the street is Ukai’s starting to become more aggressive about ‘ripping off ticks he’s picked up over the years.’ Don’t know if that means people like you or people like me or both, but be careful.”

Koutarou paused at the doorway, his expression serious when he looked back to regard his friend. “‘Course. Thanks for the heads-up.”

“Tell Shouyou to come by when you see him,” Kenma added, his sharp eyes resting on Atsumu. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah, will do,” Atsumu replied before turning to follow Koutarou out of the shop, the empty saddlebag swinging in his hand. 

As the men returned to streets brightly swathed in morning sunlight, Atsumu strode onward in silence, his lips pursed as he mulled over the new information he learned about the outlaws’ contacts and their appraising process, but Tetsurou’s warning left a sense of foreboding in the pit of his stomach. He could see the same uneasiness in Koutarou, whose visage was set in a stern frown as they walked. 

“Hey, ‘Tsumu?” Koutarou glanced his way after a long moment, pausing at the corner of an intersection. “Come ride out of town with me. Let’s test this thing out.” He looked first at the fancy shotgun on his shoulder, then to Atsumu, his gaze lacking that spark of excitement that had been ever-present earlier. 

Atsumu tilted his head to the side, eyeing the man thoughtfully. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

  
  
  
  


Koutarou, Atsumu learned while he was out in an empty field a short ride outside the city, was an incredibly quick shot. They had scrounged up a bag of old bottles and cans to throw up in the air to practice with moving targets, and once Koutarou had his fill, he let Atsumu use their last few shells to prove that he, too, was an incredibly quick shot.

The activity had been relaxing, reminding Atsumu of when he used to do the same thing with Osamu when they were kids just learning to shoot.

It was then when Atsumu also learned Koutarou harbored a deep, personal hatred for Ukai’s gang. The man opened up to him while they rode back to town together on Koutarou’s horse, explaining his lonesome childhood as an orphan on the streets until he met Keiji, the son of a wealthy family in the cattle industry. After seeing how Koutarou helped their son come out of his shell with the boys’ growing friendship, Mr. and Mrs. Akaashi took Koutarou in, offering warm meals and a roof over his head in exchange for a few chores and the promise that he would continue to make their son happy. When Koutarou wasn’t wrestling cattle, Keiji would help him learn to read and write.

“Keiji’d stay up late reading me stories.” A fond smile graced Koutarou’s lips when he recounted this, though it didn’t last long. 

Ukai—the older one who started the gang decades ago before his grandson took over, Koutarou clarified—one day barged into the Akaashi residence with a few of his men, ransacked the place to leave it bereft of any valuables, and further demanded a percentage of the family’s profits from their business at regular intervals. When Mr. Akaashi refused, he was shot in the head. His wife was subject to the same fate.

The brutal men intended to claim ownership of the cattle ranch themselves and use the children for labor, but Koutarou and Keiji managed to make a hasty escape. With no one but each other, the duo turned to thievery to survive.

Atsumu’s shoulders slumped as he listened to the story, feeling simultaneously guilty and grateful for his boring, peaceful hometown. Nothing like that had ever happened there.

“We hoped we’d never see him again and just try to get on with life,” Koutarou explained, shaking his head, “but we started hearing similar stories and meeting people who’d been through worse. Even after the younger Ukai took over, their gang ran wild. See, some of us bend the rules to survive; some of us do it for the thrill. Not sayin’ it’s noble or anything, but most of the time we aren’t really hurting nobody. But those guys just… take until there’s nothing left. There’s no rhyme or reason for it, y’know?

“That’s why we’re gonna put an end to all that,” he declared, lifting his chin as his golden eyes stared at Misbury’s skyline in the distance. “Maybe for revenge, but also to keep stuff like that from happening to anyone else.”

No matter what Atsumu thought about Koutarou’s unlawful tendencies, he couldn’t agree more with the sentiment. What if something like that _did_ happen to his hometown? To Osamu? Did Shouyou have a similar story? Rage boiled in the pit of his stomach at the notion.

Ukai was faceless in his mind—he had never met the guy—but Atsumu was more than certain: that motherfucker was going down.

  
  
  
  


“So the horses are on the other side of the stream, right? And Shouyou’s dartin’ off in-between the trees. I can’t line up a good shot on ‘im,” Atsumu explained, flinging his hands this way and that to emphasize his tale. The sun had just disappeared from the sky that day, and most of the group found themselves idly chatting with each other downstairs before something Koutarou said launched Atsumu into his story.

Eyes alight with excitement, Koutarou leaned forward from his seat on a sofa in the parlor, lips slightly parted as he hung onto every word. Sitting next to him, Keiji calmly sipped tea as he listened. Even Kiyoomi, who stood off to the side near the kitchen pretending not to pay attention, occasionally glanced his way. 

“I’m chasin’ after him, and I’m dyin’ ‘cause it’s hotter than hell. Sweatin’ and shit. He’s goin’ on like he doesn’t even _care_ ‘cause I’m not sure he’s even human at this point.”

Was that a smile? Atsumu was sure he saw a quick upturn of Kiyoomi’s lips. _Hah_.

The front door opened, and the sound of approaching boot steps announced Shouyou’s arrival. Atsumu briefly glanced over the back of the chair he occupied to see the redhead making his way over.

“Anyway, we’re gettin’ close to this rock face,” Atsumu continued, returning his gaze to his audience, “and I’m thinkin’ I’ve got him cornered, but the little fucker finds a hole in the wall and dives on in!”

“Oh!” Shouyou leaned over the side of the chair, a cheeky smirk tugging at his features. “Is this the thing with the bear?”

“Shaddup, I’m tellin’ it!” Atsumu waved a hand in Shouyou’s face. “So just as I’m about to go after ‘im, he fuckin’ _sprints_ out of the cave all like, ‘Aah! Run! Run away! I’m so scared!’” For this, he heightened his voice a few octaves, which earned him a sharp slap to his shoulder. “I don’t know what’s goin’ on, but then this massive fuckin’ grizzy charges out of the cave, so I hightail it outta there, too. 

“Turns out bears are really fuckin’ fast, so it’s gainin’ on us! I turned and shot it in the face, but it just didn’t _care_. I’m thinkin’, shit, we’re both gonna die here from a bear attack. What a way to go, right? Then Shouyou jumps up into this tree and starts climbin’, which I thought was real stupid ‘cause bears can climb, right? But this thing is seconds away from tearin’ me apart, so I hop up into this tree next to ‘im.

“Bear swipes at me and knocks the gun out of my hand. Gave me this fuckin’ scar, too!” Atsumu held up his hand, indeed showing a stripe running across the back of his palm. “But I manage to get up onto a high branch. Grizzly’s scratchin’ at the trees, tryin’ to get up at us—guess it was too big to climb the trunk, after all. I don’t have my gun anymore, but Shouyou over there _does_ , so I start yellin’ for him to shoot the damn thing, and ya know what this little fucker says?”

Shouyou covered his face with a hand, grinning against his palm. Atsumu shot an accusatory finger his way. 

“He says he _can’t_ ‘cause there’s _cubs_ in that cave, and he didn’t wanna hurt their _ma_!”

The room filled with uninhibited laughter. 

“Yep, that’s Shou!” Koutarou literally slapped his knee, guffawing until there were tears in his eyes. Chuckling, Keiji held his delicate teacup away from his companion to ensure it didn’t spill, and Kiyoomi lifted a hand to cover his mouth. 

Ears turning bright red, Shouyou crossed his arms over his chest, a large cloth sack swinging in his grip. “Well, I didn’t! And it _worked out_. We managed to sneak away when she fell asleep.”

“Shouyou, we sat in those trees for _hours_! It was awful!” Atsumu wheezed before losing himself to his own cackling.

“And nobody died!”

When the laughter finally settled down, Shouyou puffed out his cheeks in a pout. “I wouldn’t have gotten you anything today if I knew you were just gonna make fun of me,” he huffed.

“Aw, ya got me a present?” Feeling high off his amusement at Shouyou’s expense, Atsumu lolled his head back against the chair to stare up at his thief. After his day with Koutarou, he felt much more comfortable in the outlaws’ presence. Even Kiyoomi greeted him with a curt nod when he came home from work (managing shipments of gunpowder from a nearby powder mill, Atsumu later learned). 

“Yeah. Here.” 

Before Atsumu could blink, Shouyou shoved something over his face, his vision immediately going black. Grunting in surprise, Atsumu pulled the object away to find a wide-brimmed hat in his hands—very similar to his old one. He ran his fingers over the fresh, dark brown leather, eyes tracing the tightly braided cord of its band and strap. 

“You lost yours earlier, and I’ve caused you a lot of trouble, so…” Shouyou trailed off, reaching to scratch the back of his neck. 

It was probably stolen or bought with illegitimately obtained money, but for a moment, Atsumu didn’t seem to care. 

It was a very nice hat.

Heat rising to his cheeks, Atsumu placed it upon his head to test the fit. It was perfect.

Before he could say his thanks, however, Shouyou quickly changed the subject.

“I picked up the money from Kenma,” he stated, reaching into his bag to pull out a wad of cash. “Here, we can split it.”

Atsumu watched as the money was divided among the thieves, each man taking the time to leaf through the bills carefully. When a few of these bills landed in his lap, his eyebrows met his hairline. 

“What? I didn’t steal nothin’!” He glanced up at Shouyou, who simply shrugged.

“You were practically part of a few of those heists, so I guess you’ve earned it,” Shouyou chuckled. “Still, you’re probably gonna have to start earning your keep.”

“Then I’ll do that by honest means,” Atsumu retorted, glaring at the money resting on his thighs. He would have to find a few jobs to work while he was here. Koutarou could probably point him in the right direction. 

He did need a bit of extra cash. After losing most of his travel gear with Storm Chaser, he was going to need new guns, a horse, equipment, and spare clothes—something Shouyou had already been out taking care of, it seemed. The redhead, he now noticed, was sporting new black leather riding chaps with silver ringlets accenting its sides, and a matching vest holster carrying two shiny new revolvers rested against his torso. 

When Shouyou turned to head toward the kitchen, Atsumu could see that the man’s new trousers, along with the curve of his chaps, _very nicely_ accentuated his ass, and _fuck_ , he had to avert his gaze before anyone caught him staring. 

Great. He almost forgot about the part of his brain that was inordinately attracted to Shouyou, and now he was going to have to _deal_ with that on a day-to-day basis. It really didn’t help that the rest of Shouyou’s companions were objectively nice to look at, as well. Keiji was, well, _pretty_ , Koutarou looked like he had enough muscle under those clothes to lift a fucking horse, and Kiyoomi—well, maybe he was pretty, too. Whatever.

When the fuck did his gayer tendencies become this upredictable? 

It was definitely Shouyou’s fault, somehow.

Still, Atsumu quietly folded the bills and slid them into his wallet, watching as Kiyoomi stifled a yawn before turning to head upstairs. Koutarou soon yawned loudly himself, raising his arms in a long stretch that cracked his back in the process. 

“I’m gonna hit the hay,” Koutarou said as he stood from his seat and followed suit after Kiyoomi.

“I’ll join you after I wash up,” Keiji replied, finishing his tea with a contented sigh. Soon enough he was on his way upstairs, as well, Atsumu squinting after him. 

Were they…? He’d been wondering since yesterday.

“Hey, Shouyou?” Atsumu stood and meandered into the kitchen, watching as the other man turned to quirk a questioning brow at him. “Wanted to ask about Keiji and Koutarou. Are they… ya know?”

Shouyou blinked and cocked his head a fraction to the side. “What?”

Atsumu averted his gaze and lowered his voice. “Homosexuals. I mean, they’re sharin’ a room, right?”

He didn’t expect Shouyou to giggle at that, and Atsumu’s ears began to burn with embarrassment. Shit, maybe he shouldn’t have asked.

“They’re not together; just really close,” Shouyou clarified, redirecting his gaze to the loaf of bread he was cutting. “I thought the same thing when I first met them, to be honest.”

“Seriously?” Atsumu cinched his brow in thought. “I’m pretty sure they share a bed.”

“It’s a very comfortable bed. Why are you asking me?”

“Just curious, is all.” Atsumu shrugged, biting the inside of his cheek. “Figured I should get to know y’all as much as I can, y’know?”

After sounding a small hum, Shouyou turned to lean his hip against the counter, facing the other man directly. “Would you be uncomfortable if they _were_?” He asked lightly, though there was an air of amusement in his tone. 

“Wouldn’t spend any time near _you_ , if that were the case,” Atsumu snorted, producing a small smirk when he saw Shouyou’s eyes widen in surprise.

After a moment, Shouyou let out a laugh before shaking his head and returning his attention to his food. “Okay. What gave it away?”

Well, the time Atsumu nearly walked in on Shouyou quite literally fucking another man had been a blaring hint. “My impeccable intuition,” he answered instead.

“Huh.” Shouyou simply smirked to himself, adding nothing more to the conversation. 

Atsumu took that as his cue to head to bed. At the very least, he had two questions officially answered.

  
  
  
  


In the next month that passed, winter billowed in across the plains, bringing even chillier temperatures with harsh winds rolling off the snow-capped mountains. Atsumu often found himself huddled by the fireplace when he wasn’t working as a stablehand or accompanying either Shouyou or Koutarou on one of their ventures—these were usually innocent jobs escorting carts or making deliveries, though they often ended with the outlaws pilfering small trinkets or coin from underneath their employer’s nose.

Fuckin’ thieves. 

It was a temporary arrangement, Atsumu had to remind himself, no matter how much fun he sometimes had working alongside the men. Koutarou and his loudness and boundless energy and furtive fingers was almost too much to bear, but the man was so undeniably _genuine,_ Atsumu couldn’t help but develop a soft spot for the guy. Keiji was difficult to read, but he made pleasant conversation and diligently kept track of the group’s finances and information. He might as well have been their leader, if they had one.

Kiyoomi was a more difficult case, but after the first week or so, Atsumu managed to figure out what the strange man’s boundaries were: Kiyoomi didn’t like to be touched, he didn’t like messes, and he most certainly didn’t like when Atsumu showed up to his office while he was working to beg for advice on which new six-iron to buy. 

Atsumu still dropped by occasionally to bother him, anyway. Kiyoomi seemed less and less irritated each time he did so, so he must have been doing something right.

And then there was Shouyou: the man who turned his world on its head. Shouyou and his drive to see every job through the end with something shiny in his pocket never ceased to amaze Atsumu, and he frequently ended up helping the thief with his tasks on the condition that they only involved getting information against Ukai, usually serving as a distraction or a watchdog while Shouyou broke into an office building or someone’s dwelling to retrieve the goods.

Part of him felt dirty for engaging in these activities, like he was turning his back on his own morals; part of him found getting away with arguably harmless crimes admittedly thrilling.

 _Arguably harmless._ He was already losing himself, wasn’t he?

Fuckin’ thieves.

Speaking of which, Shouyou continued his bad habit of _being attractive_ when he did things like lean against the fireplace while talking to Atsumu or laugh at his jokes or lick a dribble of stew from the corner of his lips during dinner. 

Atsumu’s gaze always lingered longer than he’d like to admit.

Then there were those occasional nights when Shouyou returned home late with a definite hickey peeking over the lip of his collar. The spike of jealousy Atsumu felt when he noticed them only made him more frustrated with himself. He had no right to be jealous. He didn’t _want_ to be jealous, but often he was huddled beneath the blankets atop his chaise-bed in the midst of fantasies involving _himself_ being the one to leave those pretty marks all over Shouyou’s skin. 

Dealing with hard-ons with no privacy to his name reminded Atsumu of his teenage years, and he simply didn’t _feel like_ finding himself a working woman or someone willing to take him into their bed.

What made it all worth it, however, were the days he and Shouyou would borrow horses to ride outside the city, going nowhere in particular, running just to run. It was that one thing Atsumu wanted since the day he met the smarmy little thief all those months ago. Coats billowing behind them in the wind, the duo would devote themselves to nothing but the pounding of hooves and the frigid air stinging their lungs, temporarily leaving their worries within Misbury’s walls.

It was after one of these days that they made their way back through the city’s streets, Shouyou’s jubilant laughter echoing against the buildings while Atsumu recounted an embarrassing story about his brother, smiling fondly at the thief’s reactions to his tales all the while. He was going to have to share the same story when they got home—Koutarou would find it a hoot. 

Upon entering the house, they soon discovered the other residents huddled around the dining table, with the addition of Tetsurou and Kenma pointing at specific locations on a large map spread out between them. 

“Kenma!” Shouyou exclaimed when Kenma glanced up and offered a tiny nod, but the seriousness of everyone else’s expressions dampened the redhead’s smile. A deep scowl permeated Koutarou’s features as he held one of his knuckles between his teeth in thought; Keiji sifted through a small pile of papers with his mouth pressed in a thin line; Kiyoomi grimaced at the positions on the map beneath Tetsurou’s fingers.

“What’s goin’ on?” Atsumu asked, leaning to peer at the map.

“Some friends got themselves into deep shit,” Tetsurou responded, straightening himself to rest his hands on his hips. 

“Shuugo and Shion,” Kiyoomi clarified, glancing Atsumu’s way. “Companions of ours who went to do reconnaissance on some of Ukai’s activities.”

“It should’ve been quick, but they never returned. I asked Tetsurou to look into it,” Keiji added, pulling two papers from his stack.

“And I found ‘em,” Tetsurou continued with a nod. “They got caught.”

Atsumu cinched his brow. He had never met the two individuals in question, but he imagined getting caught snooping by Ukai’s men was the worst-case scenario. Standing next to him, Shouyou stared ahead, unblinking as he listened, his jaw firmly set. 

“We don’t know all the details,” Kenma spoke, his eyes flicking to the map, “but allegedly they’ve been taken to coal mines up in the mountains, probably getting worked to death.”

“Two different mines,” Tetsurou clarified, holding up two fingers. “Don’t know who’s where, but one of ‘em is here,” he dropped a finger on a circled spot on the map, “and another here.” He tapped another circle further down the mountain range.

Atsumu had heard occasional horror stories of working in mines under normal conditions. He could only assume doing so as a prisoner under Ukai would be much, much worse.

“Those two mines are Ukai’s,” Keiji said as he skimmed the papers in his hands. “Owned and operated under an alias and his business partners.”

“And we’re gonna go get them, right?” Shouyou asked tersely, scouring the room as if daring anyone to say otherwise.

“‘Course we are!” Koutarou slammed his palms against the table. “We’re getting ‘em back, no matter what!”

“We just need a plan,” Kiyoomi sighed. “Barging in without one would be suicide.”

“It’s worked for me before,” came Koutarou’s frustrated huff.

“And we both almost died,” Tetsurou added, opening his mouth again before Koutarou could speak, “but you did get me out, so there’s that. This is _Ukai_ we’re dealing with, though. They’ll be heavily guarded at the mining camp when they’re not literally inside a mountain.”

“What if…” Atsumu spoke up, trying to formulate a plan. “What if we had a big enough distraction to get ‘em out during all the confusion? Y’know, at night when they’re not in the tunnels?”

Keiji arched a brow. “What kind of distraction would that be?”

“We take out the mines,” Shouyou finished, almost breathless as the idea hit him.

Atsumu gaped at him. “I wasn’t thinkin’ of anything like that, but I mean, sure. How would we even…” He trailed off as his gaze slowly moved to Kiyoomi, who wore a large, wry smirk.

“We blow them up.”

Right.

“It would destroy a significant portion of Ukai’s resources,” Keiji stated, tapping a finger against his chin. “So long as we ensure nobody is inside the mines, it would certainly be a good distraction to use to rescue our friends.”

“It’ll definitely work!” Koutarou declared, clearly excited about the idea.

“You’re all insane,” Tetsurou sighed, grinning. “Bring me back a souvenir.”

“You up for it, Lawman?” Shouyou asked, leering at Atsumu, who quickly scoffed.

Trek up a mountain in the middle of winter and blow up an entire mine just to save yet another outlaw?

“Sure, fuck it, sounds fun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed meeting the Jackals and co. in MiSBurY! I had a lot of fun writing this chapter!  
> I also ended up having to increase the chapter count by a smidge. It happens.  
> Also, Hinata's outfit is inspired by The Kid from The Ballad of Buster Scruggs. If you like cinematic old cowboy stories, check it out on Netflix!  
> I try to update every 2-3 weeks or so, so do look forward to the next update!  
> Thank you all for sticking around!
> 
> Find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/Koocatoo) !


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